Every End is the Start of a New Beginning
by maintje
Summary: COMPLETE! Harry has been married to Ginny for eight years. He's fully dissatisfied about his job as Headauror and is ready to take a break from it all. Ginny begs him to consult a relation therapist as a last resort. Harry agrees, but will he change his mind once he finds out the therapist is Draco Malfoy? Harry X Draco Slash.
1. Chapter 1: Relation Therapist

**Hi! I know it's been very long, but I've been travelling and need to prepare for some re-examinations. I've been so busy, but I couldn't let you guys wait any longer.**

**So, this is the new story I've been working on. It's a hard one to write, a lot more complicated than the ones I've done before. I'm not quite certain about it, so I figured I'd post it to see what you guys think. The first chapter's like a large background sketch, the story doesn't really start until chapter 2. **

**I'm still looking for a beta for this story as well. Volunteers can send me a PM.**

**I hope you enjoy. **

Chapter 1

Relation therapist

_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end._

-_Seneca_-

Harry woke up feeling as dreadful as he did every day. He was lying alone in a double bed, the pillow next to him had been slept on, but the person was nowhere to be seen. Harry pushed back the covers, revealing his half-naked body, goosebumps appearing on his skin by the sudden chilliness. However, he didn't cover himself up. He just made his way to the bathroom, doing his morning routine before going downstairs to eat some breakfast.

Ginny was in the kitchen, preparing eggs and bacon and smiled warmly as he entered and took a seat at the hard wooden kitchen table. Somehow, the smile didn't lessen his morning mood. He'd never been a morning person. Well, especially not since he'd been promoted at the Ministry.

When he was seventeen, Harry had been jumping to start his training to become an Auror at the Ministry. After the training, he'd had been offered an internship, but he wasn't treated that way. All his colleagues looked up to him. Just as his fellow student had done back in Hogwarts.

At first, Harry had liked it, but soon enough it annoyed him. Lucky for him, he had Ron to complain to. He shared a desk with Ron, and was always partnered up with the man. After his promotion to Headauror, he had gotten an office for himself. Loneliness was something Harry couldn't deal with very well. Not having anyone in the office really got to him sometimes. As he tried to get through the enormous piles of work waiting for him every single morning, he wondered why he'd ever become an Auror. Harry snapped out of his thoughts when Ginny turned away from the counter.

"Good morning, Harry," she greeted, placing the saucepan onto the table.

"Morning, Gin," Harry mumbled, giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek. He grabbed the pan, filling his plate with the freshly scrambled eggs.

"Did you sleep well?" Ginny asked, putting the toast next to the eggs, and taking a seat herself. Her soft blue eyes tried to peer into Harry's green ones, but he avoided her gaze. He tried to suppress a sigh, not wanting to start a fight but finding it hard not to be a pain in the ass to his wife.

"Guess so," Harry replied before stuffing his mouth with eggs. Harry prepared for what had been going on for some months.

"You're so distant lately, Harry. I can sense that something's wrong. Is everything fine at the Ministry?" Ginny looked really worried, and Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for her, guilt rising in his stomach. He had practically ignored her the past few weeks. Or better, past few months. Ginny had noticed it. She brought it up every once in a while, but lately it was all she could talk about. It was not as if _she _had tried her hardest to communicate with him. Frankly, Harry just cold shouldered her. Not on purpose, but he did.

"Hmm," Harry nodded briefly, not wanting to compose an answer. He wouldn't be able to come up with an excuse this early in the morning, when he couldn't even compose one when he was fully awake.

"I'm convinced it's the Ministry, Harry. You're always working late and they don't value you enough for what you're doing. I'll talk to Ron about it. He'll put in a good word for you. Maybe you'll get early holidays. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it?" Ginny smiled genuinely. If that would really be the case, Harry could very well ask for that himself, now couldn't he? Besides, Ron _wouldn't _put in a good word for him since he was Headauror, and he wouldn't get early holidays either, due to that very same reason. However, Harry didn't want to point all of that out. He was too worn out. And it wasn't even 8 am.

"Yes, Gin. That would be lovely. But I'll have to go now. I start at eight sharp." Harry got up, leaned over to give Ginny a peck on the lips and entered the living room in a bundle of robes. He left through the fireplace, which was directly connected to the Ministry of Magic. He couldn't believe Ginny thought his work was the cause of his despondency. He stepped into the large hall of the Ministry, blending with the other wizards.

After the war, the Ministry had been rebuilt. The entire atmosphere in the underground building had changed. They'd kept the large fountain in the Atrium, but instead of House elves and Centaurs supporting the mighty Wizards, all magical creatures were united in a bond. Merging Magic. Harry made his way to the elevators, continuing to ponder over his life.

Even though work was a contributing factor to what felt like a depression, coming home to a loving wife should do the trick. But it didn't. Harry didn't feel attracted to the red-haired woman anymore. It was even stronger than that. Harry made his way to his office, greeting his colleagues along the way. Lately, the fire between Ginny and him had died out. Harry appreciated the woman he shared his bed with, but he couldn't say he loved her. He had once been in love with her, at Hogwarts. But he had been a young adult then, and the fact that she was the sister of his best friend had contributed to his feelings of love. Ron was one of the main reasons he hadn't filed for divorce yet.

He had broken up with Ginny before the War, saying they couldn't be together because otherwise Voldemort would kill her. Deep down, Harry knew he shouldn't have gotten together with her afterwards. However, when the War ended, the Wizard world was euphoric, including Harry. Eventually, they decided to live together and start a family.

The first year they had lived together had been amazing. Harry was finally finding some peace. The novelty of his job had kept him occupied for a while. Ginny had been gone a lot, having to attend the matches of the Holyhead Harpies. She was a seeker, and a good one. Consequently, being an international sportswoman resulted in lots of lonely nights. At that time, Harry didn't like that – he didn't like it now either, although he preferred her being gone instead of pumping him all evening.

Harry entered the Auror department and headed straight to his office. Upon entering, he could see the documents stacked all over the large corner desk. Harry's job was very simple. Distribute the different cases to the appropriate Aurors, authorize certain procedures, following up cases and making sure the Aurors did what they had to do. Honestly, he loathed it. It wasn't challenging. It wasn't fulfilling. It was nothing Harry had expected. Ron entered his office at nine o'clock, entering with a short knock. He greeted Harry in his usual friendly way.

"Oi, mate. You have a minute?" He walked forward without being invited, leaning down on Harry's desk.

"Hi, Ron," Harry smiled briefly, focusing on his paperwork. He had a hunch for what this would be about.

"You keep getting out of the wrong side of your bed, Harry. Lighten up a little," Ron said, smacking Harry on the back jovially as he spoke. Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He knew Ron was trying to cheer him up, but he wasn't in for a talk with his brother-in law.

"I'm fine, Ron. Really." He looked up from one of the files he was proofreading briefly, before fixing his eyes on the inked letters again.

"That's not what I heard from Ginny," Ron continued. Harry knew that was coming. Ginny was the reason why he was barging in like that. On a normal day, Aurors rarely came in. Being Headauror was nothing to be proud of, except for the wages. The salary wasn't a motivation for him, though. Harry wasn't temped by money.

"She already talked to you? Wonderful. I told her I was alright, Ron. And I am," Harry retorted, angriness his voice. He couldn't believe this was the very same man he had befriended fifteen years ago. Harry could hardly recognize him. They hardly saw or spoke one another, both occupied with their own lives. Harry had a presumption that his friend was jealous because of his promotion. It had been almost eight months now and ever since, Ronald had been talking a lot more to Ginny than to Harry. Harry missed him.

"Whatever you say, mate," Ron replied. He observed the raven-haired Survivor for a little while longer, until Harry looked up, clearly annoyed and bit: "Don't you have to be at your desk, Weasley?" Instantly, Ron's ears turned red, but his eyes went ice cold blue. He probably didn't like Harry bossing him around. He knew the comment was out of line. He knew it. But the grumbling animal in Harry's stomach paid no attention to what someone else wanted to hear.

Harry was convinced Ron was being silly and childish. However, he couldn't go to Hermione to complain about her husband, now could he? That was a weird thing to do. She would probably just defend him. Ron and Hermione had gotten married soon after the war. They hadn't been infected by the post-war euphoria. Both his friends had matured a lot, and admitted their feelings of love to one another. Their wedding was overpowered by romance. Harry had been proud to be Ron's best man. Four years later, Ron and Hermione had gotten a baby, a girl named Rose. Hermione had taken some time off from her job at St. Mungo's and had gone back part time. Ever since Rose had arrived, Harry's two best friends didn't have much time for Harry.

At that time, Harry fully understood they were having a family, and friends would be put on hold. He had started a family with Ginny himself, and the three friends mostly kept to themselves.

Rose was five now and was accompanied by a younger brother, Hugo. Both children had inherited Ron's ginger hair and they were lovely children. However, all the kids' stuff had caused Ginny to start about having a baby on their own. Harry was very reluctant on that subject. For some reason, the idea of having children only scared Harry, and he refused to talk about it. He knew it was not in his nature to avoid certain matters, but he really felt dreadful about this. He wasn't ready.

At the end of it all, Harry felt like he wasn't in the right place. The way he and his friends lead their life wasn't the life he had imagined himself living. He was settling for less. Perhaps it was just Harry who had expected more. More from being an Auror. More from being Ginny's husband. More from life.

LINEBREAK

It was past eight when Harry flooed back home. Ginny had left dinner on the table, a heat retaining spell keeping it warm until Harry would arrive. His red-haired wife was sitting on the couch as he entered, smiling brightly.

Harry couldn't muster the strength to return the smile and just nodded. He bent down to give her a peck on her cheek and headed for the kitchen.

"Had a rough day?" she called after him. Harry suppressed the urge to grunt.

"Yeah, you could say that," he replied calmly, sitting down in his favorite chair at the hard wooden table. That was as far as their conversations went nowadays. Ginny stood up as well, walking up behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles as she whispered in his ear: "Being a Headauror is hard work, love. You want me to massage you?" The warm breath in Harry's ear would normally turn him on straight away. Right now, it just annoyed him terribly. He felt cold shivers run down his spine, and softly pushed her away.

"No, Gin. I'm worn out. I've spent all day sitting in a chair and I'm just exhausted. I hate filing."

"I know, Harry," Ginny replied trying to be understanding. She sat down next to him. "Did Ron speak to you?"

"Yes. And I told him I was fine. There's no need to put this weight on his shoulders, Ginny. He already has two kids to look after."

"What's wrong with you, Harry? You don't like _anything _I do anymore. Am I a terrible wife?" Ginny questioned, tears forming in her soft blue eyes. Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes – he felt that impulse quite a lot lately – and just shook his head. "What's the problem then? It's your job, isn't it? You're always complaining about all the filing. Why don't you do something else?" Harry just wished it was that simple.

"That's easily said, now isn't it Ginny? Not everyone can have dream job like you do! I can't just quit. People would talk. They _always _talk. They never stop. And it annoys me rigid, you know?" Harry nearly exploded, but kept his boiling rage locked in his body. The vain in his temple was pulsing painfully. The headache from all the brainwork started to cloud his vision, and he needed to rest as soon as possible. He had thought a lot about changing jobs. He would muse about all the different professions that were possible, one in particular, but somehow he never put his thoughts to action. Perhaps he was afraid of starting something new.

"I understand Harry. But don' t you see our marriage is suffering because of you?" As if he was the only one ruining their marriage. Sometimes his wife stayed away for weeks, because she was occupied with her job. And now she would complain about him being distant?

"My head is killing me, Gin. Can we do this another time? Can I at least finish my dinner in peace?"

"It's always another time, Harry." Ginny stood up, elegantly sweeping her hair back as she left for the living room again. "I really think you died in the war," she added, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry grumbled. This was not the first time she said that. There were moments when Harry felt very down, and actually believed he lost his lust for life in the war. The irony of it all was that he _actually _died during the war. Harry knew he had lost a part of himself back there. He blocked his thoughts, not wanting to think about that right now. The waves of pain submerged him at a quick rate, and he needed his rest desperately.

Harry left the food for what it was and headed upstairs. It was an easy thing for Ginny to say. _"Just do something else." _Harry didn't know how he could give up everything he had done so far. All he had ever known was he wanted to be an Auror, like Mad Eye. Well, that ship was sailed now. He hated being an Auror. Brainwork wasn't his thing. He had just expected the job to be more challenging. Harry had always loved working with his hands, using magic and muscles to do a job. But even the practical parts of being an Auror didn't fulfill him anymore. On top of that, his headaches drove him crazy and all his stored energy could only get out when he and Ginny had a fight.

They were serious fights. Once, Harry had nearly cursed Ginny in a burst of anger. If the girl hadn't been sublime in countering spells, she would have had to visit St. Mungo's for a couple of weeks. Harry had of course been very sorry, but he couldn't help it. Every time the woman approached him, he felt the need to push her away.

The only problem right now was that Harry didn't have the guts to say it. He didn't want to hurt the woman he had vowed to love for the rest of his life. He didn't want to lose his best friend and brother-in-law. Nor did he want to be alone. He _despised _being alone.

Maybe he just needed a break from it all.

LINEBREAK

That evening, Harry was already half asleep when Ginny joined him in their four-poster-bed. She nudged his arm softly: "Harry? Are you asleep yet?" Harry didn't move and tried to breathe deep, as if he was still asleep. However, he couldn't fool her.

"Don't pretend to be asleep. I know you're not." Ginny positioned her in the bed, pulling some of the cover away from her husband.

"I'm trying. Leave me alone," Harry replied, pulling the covers closer, so that the part Ginny had slid off her again.

"I've been thinking. We're not really – doing a great job as regards our marriage, are we?" Ginny's voice was filled with fear and sorrow, but the woman's feelings couldn't soften Harry's indifference. His heart was transformed in a stone, unable to be loving or kind. To anyone.

"No. You're right, we're not. Do we have to do this now?" Harry asked, annoyed because she was bringing up the marriage thing again. He was fully awake now, and he knew it would take him hours to get back to sleep. He stared at the digital night alarm on his bed side table. It was a Muggle device Harry was quite fond of, and he wouldn't sleep without it. He liked knowing what time it was when he opened his eyes.

"When will it _ever _be a good time, Harry?" Ginny shifted uncomfortably next to him, while Harry remained immobile.

"I don't know. I'm tired from working. All you have to do is fly a broom every once in a while. I'm exhausted." Harry's voice was filled with reproach, unable to force his body to pretend like everything was all right. It hadn't been alright for quite some time. Maybe that was the main reason Harry didn't want any kids. Ginny managed to ignore his hurtful blame and swallowed.

"You don't love me anymore, do you?" Harry could hear the lump forming in Ginny's throat. She was going to cry. Harry's face scrunched up, his blood starting to boil. It wasn't entirely his fault, now was it? She was hardly there for him either, and when she was, she was constantly begging for attention.

"Are you trying to say that I want to divorce you?" Harry tensed speaking the words, hearing how cold and distant his voice sounded. He didn't dare to look at his wife. He just kept facing the wall, his back turned to the redhead.

"No, I'm not. We just have issues, Harry. You can't deny that. I talked to Hermione about it, and she thinks we should see a relation therapist."Ginny spoke slowly, cautiously placing every word. However, her prudence wasn't necessary, because Harry got angry anyway.

"What? You talked to HERMIONE about this, without me? Why are you doing _everything _behind my back, Ginny?" His temper rose as quick as a flash. In a blink of an eye he was facing the ginger-haired woman, green eyes as murderous as Avada Kedavra.

"You're never home. It's hard to do something together with you. We don't even bathe together anymore." Ginny was unaffected by Harry's fit, and that made Harry's heart blow up with rage. She just ignored his embittered feelings.

"I don't bathe. I take showers. They're quicker." Harry knew he was beating around the bush. This whole conversation was getting on his nerves, and he didn't want to talk about it. He just didn't. His life sucked. Nor Ginny or Hermione could change that, let alone a therapist.

"That's not the point, Harry!" Ginny snapped. "You never make time for me. You're always too tired. I know your work is hard, but please try to be there for me." Her voice softened at the end of her sentence. Like he was the only one never making time.

"I will," Harry grunted, "But let me sleep first 'kay?" Harry's voice was calmed down too. He turned around again, ready to nuzzle into his cushion to fall back asleep.

"I made an appointment for tomorrow morning. At ten o'clock." Harry turned around swift as an arrow.

"So now you already made an appointment as well?! Thanks for sharing, Gin! Really. Do I have any say in this?" Harry sat up pulling the covers off both of them, eyeing his wife furiously. "Fine. I'll go to the stupid therapist. You'll see it won't make any difference." With that, Harry buried his head in his pillow again, pulled the covers up to his neck and turned off the light with a swing of his wand.

LINEBREAK

The next day, Harry was sitting next to Ginny in the waiting room. On the coffee table, a few magazines were scattered, showing images of couples with trouble in their relationship. On the cover of '_Wizard marriage scrutinized' _you could see a man and a woman yelling at each other before both leaving the frame.

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't even know what he was doing here. He wondered what Ginny must be thinking. They didn't have any _actual _issues in their relationship. They had just run out of love. But Harry couldn't tell her that. He was unable to hurt the feelings of his best friend's sister. The fact that they had run out of love scared Harry. Sometimes his mind would wander around, thinking about which people he loved. All the people he cared about were slowly slipping out of his reach. He then would start to wonder, fear filling his heart, that Voldemort had not only killed the Horcrux inside him. He might have killed his love as well.

"It's a really good therapist, Harry," Ginny said, her voice not louder than a whisper. She was clearly happy that she had gotten the Survivor to come along with her.

"In the Muggle world they call it a shrink," Harry grumbled in protest. "I don't know what we're doing here. We're fine." Harry knew they weren't fine. He just didn't want to be there. He didn't want to know whether their relationship could be solved, because honestly he had no wish for it. He had his fill of their relationship. He just didn't have the guts to say so.

"Don't be like this, Harry. Don't you want to save what we had so far? You admitted it yesterday. We're falling apart." Honestly, what had they had? They both hadn't made time for their partners and this was what it had resulted in.

"That still doesn't mean we have to go and pour our heart out to some kind of stranger," Harry groaned, his mood becoming all the more dark. Why had he agreed to this idiotism? It was beyond all doubt that a therapist could convert the ruins of what used to be their life.

"I'm telling you, Hermione recommended him. He's the best there is in the Wizard world. She said lots of people meet him. A colleague of hers at St. Mungo's went to him and she and her husband are doing fine again. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Very wonderful, Gin. I'm going to pay Hermione back for recommending a lunatic to save our marriage." What would the professional discover? That they had irreversibly grown apart? They had eight hard years of marriage behind them. Harry would never want to relive them again. Ever. They had known moments of happiness, but they had only been brief. Too brief.

"Stop being a prat, you sound just like Ron," Ginny reprimanded. Harry just shrugged and continued observing the moving pictures on the magazines. They sat silent for a little while, until the door swung open.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter, you can come in," a familiar voice called out. Upon recognizing the voice an uneasy feeling settled in Harry's stomach. He looked up alarmed, only to see his former arch enemy standing in the opening.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a relation therapist?!

**To be continued…**

**Please tell me what you think. I promise the next chapter will be a lot better. I had to start the story somewhere. Harry'll be a lot less depressed soon, so don't judge just yet. **


	2. Chapter 2: Realization

**Hi! This is chapter two! I'm trying to make my chapters longer than they were in other stories, and it's actually working out so far. I hope you like it, and don't forget to tell me what you think! I'm all ears.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 2  
Realization

"_Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."  
-Jonathan Safran Foer_-

Harry was momentarily paralyzed, observing the blonde hair, sharp nose and tall figure. The man had aged well, Harry could see that. His face was still very pointy, the high cheekbones giving him his signature look. But his thin, frail body had noticeably toughened up. The blouse he wore clearly showed the well-formed muscles in his arms. Ginny got up, motioning for Harry to follow her and walked past Malfoy into the office. Harry's eyes grew wider when Ginny wasn't shocked with Malfoy's appearance. It must have been a set up.

"I'm not going in there, Ginny," Harry warned, preparing his body for an attack. Ginny just pulled an eyebrow, unaffected by the traitorous gleam in the raven-haired man's eyes. Harry crossed his arms and stayed put.

"Are you going to act like a child all day or what?" She went out of sight and Malfoy looked at Harry questioningly. Harry rolled his eyes, got up and went inside, shrugging and complaining all the way.

Malfoy's office was decorated with comfortable furniture. The walls were painted white, and paintings of gorgeous landscapes gave the room a homelike feeling. Harry had expected a large desk with uncomfortable chairs to occupy the room, but instead a cozy cream sofa was inviting them to take a seat. There was a small coffee table in between, and Malfoy took a seat on the other couch. The floor was covered with a beige carpet, giving the room its finishing touch.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter. How can I help you today?" the former Slytherin spoke. Harry quirked an eyebrow upon hearing the friendly tone and it was difficult not to bark at the young man. However, Ginny replied before he could say anything inappropriate.

"We've been experiencing issues in our marriage. Harry doesn't like his job and mostly takes it all out on me," Ginny confessed. He couldn't believe Ginny was actually talking to the boy who had called her a Weaslette throughout Hogwarts. Had she forgotten about that? He couldn't believe she was blaming it all on him as well. He could already see those two, Malfoy completely agreeing with his wife, conspiratorially plotting against The Boy Who Lived.

"I'm not the only one with flaws here," Harry scoffed, throwing her a bloodthirsty glance. "You're always out, flying with the Holyhead Harpies. That's not what one expects from his wife, is it?" Harry tried to put as much conviction in his words, not wanting his former arch enemy to take the side of his wife.

"It's my job, Harry. I can't just quit. You know I hate to leave you behind." Ginny demonstratively shook her head in disbelief, a pained expression on her face. That annoyed Harry even more. Frustration boiled in his blood and he snorted loud and clear.

"I'm not quitting my job either, Ginny. Forget it. And if you'll all excuse me, I'm tired of this nonsense." Harry stood up, but Malfoy was up faster than him. Harry eyed the blonde with a challenging look.

"Mr. Potter, just wait a second. Let us find a way to try and solve this situation. That's why you two came to me, isn't it?" The obliging tone in the man's voice sounded extra-terrestrial to the Boy Who Lived and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I'm not the one who planned this. I didn't want to come, and especially not want to talk to _you, _Malfoy," Harry scolded. He stepped around the well-dressed man and made for the door.

"Harry, please. Give it a shot," Ginny pleaded, but her begging didn't affect Harry. It was the fact that Malfoy had mouthed the word 'coward' that made Harry turn around and sit back down in the cream sofa.

"You could have told me the therapist was Malfoy," Harry grumbled, feeling as if he was sixteen again. He had no say in this at all, and Ginny had managed to force his hand once again.

"You wouldn't have come otherwise," Ginny retorted, her undertone warning Harry not to go any further. He ignored her signals, continuing to be cross-grained.

"Obviously I wouldn't. I have no desire in being consulted by my former arch-enemy, thank you very much," he bit, folding his arms over his chest and sending Malfoy another threatening look.

"Okay. I would like both of you to calm down and take a few breaths. It's very normal for couples not to agree on consulting someone to help them, but I'm glad you two did. To begin with, I'll inform you a little more about how I do things around here. For starters, I tend to converse with the couples separately, as to avoid any further fights about what has been said here and to hear the whole stories of both partners. This way, it will be easier for me to sort out the issues and guide you two into a normal marriage." Harry boredly listened to Malfoy's standard explanation, already irritated by the use of his profession words and standard procedure. It was as if they were test animals.

"We have to talk in private?" Harry questioned, not believing his ears. What was happening? His life had already been turned upside down. Just when he thought things just couldn't get worse, he ended up with Malfoy.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, that's the most efficient way. Since you're rather upset right now, I suggest you could leave so I can talk to Mrs. Potter. I can make time ten o'clock next Saturday. Is that suitable for you?" Malfoy said, picking up his agenda and flipping a few pages. Ginny's eyes begged and Harry just rolled his green orbs. It would be useless to decline.

"Whatever." With those words, he exited the snugly room and went home. From the moment he had entered that place, he'd wanted to leave right away. He was glad to be out of there. However, the damage had been done. Harry found it impossible to banish the recent occurrence from his thoughts. In the past nine years, Harry hadn't thought about Malfoy a single time. Well, the blonde haired teen had crossed his mind every now and then, but it remained rather brief. After the war, both boys had gone their own way. Harry had heard from Hermione, who always read the Daily Prophet, that Malfoy's status had been cleared and that he'd started his own life, but little did he know that the Slytherin had become a therapist.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, turning on the television, another one of his favorite Muggle devices. It had been very confronting to see Malfoy like that. The blonde obviously had his life all figured out, while Harry was throwing it away. To be honest, he'd been ashamed. Malfoy had witnessed what a failure he'd become. Right now, Ginny was probably telling him all about Harry's lacking sides and annoying habits. After channel hopping for a while, Harry stood up again, heading for the kitchen to make some lunch. He had no clue when she would be back. He didn't want her to come back just yet, even though the feelings were mixed. He didn't want her to stay with the bloody therapist either. But if she came back, Merlin, she would most likely nag about Malfoy some more.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table with his sandwiches. He heard someone entering through the fireplace and prepared for a dull conversation. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up in Ginny not being around today.

"Hi, Harry," a familiar voice greeted, but not the one Harry was expecting.

"Hermione! What brings you here?" he asked, glad to see a brown mop instead of a red one. Still, it was unusual for Hermione to stop by today. As far as he knew, she was informed that they'd be at Malfoy's office.

"I came to check up on you. How did the first appointment go?" Hermione sat down, wearing her Healer robes. She had just finished her weekend shift. Harry wanted to be happy by his friend's visit, but he just couldn't. After everything that had happened so far, he eyed his curly-haired friend reproachfully.

"Not good. Are you the one who set us up with Malfoy?" Harry grunted. He offered the woman a sandwich, which she politely refused.

"Yes, actually. He's very good at what he does, Harry. You really should give it a try. Where's Ginny?" Hermione looked around the room to find the woman Harry with whom he had embarked on matrimony. Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead took a quick sip from his pumpkinjuice.

"With Malfoy. He decided to interrogate us separately," Harry replied monotonously, taking another bite from his sandwich. He chewed it thoughtfully, his mind stuck in the moment where he'd met Malfoy.

"I understand what you feel, Harry., but you've got to give it a shot. He's changed. It's been a long time since the war. Maybe this is your chance to give _him_ a second chance as well," Hermione said, a smile appearing on her face, lightening the dark circles around her eyes. Harry knew it wasn't easy to look after two children and have a part-time job. However, he had enough to worry about for himself, let alone he'd try to help out his friends.

"Is this about our marriage or about Malfoy?" Harry questioned, putting down his lunch. He didn't like where this conversation was heading. Somehow, it seemed everybody was disappointed with the way Harry's life had turned out. Including Harry.

"Mostly about your marriage. You do want to fight for your marriage, or not?" Hermione said, blinking fervently. Her brown eyes looked straight through him and she could easily deduce the answer from his body language. "You made a vow, Harry. Ginny loves you. Please give it a try." With those words, Hermione stood up again. Harry wanted to get up and scream that he had tried very hard the past few months – years even, but he didn't.

"I know you love her too," she added, pressing a soft kiss on Harry's cheek. As the woman left through the fireplace again, Harry felt even more dreadful. What would Hermione say if he actually told her he didn't love Ginny anymore?

Did he really not love the one he married anymore? Or was he just fooling himself? Harry stared at the kitchentable, wondering if they were making the right decisions. Doubt penetrated his brain and washed away his appetite. He put down his sandwiches, tried to set his mind straight but soon gave up and made his way to the television again.

Wasn't there anyone who saw that he and Ginny lived in different worlds?

* * *

On Monday, at nine sharp, Ron barged in his office, just like he had done last Friday. He stopped in front of Harry, disbelief, confusion and anger in his deep blue eyes. Harry looked up from the papers scattered around his large desk and waited for Ron to pop his urgent question.

"Are you seeing a relation therapist?" He asked. His eyes begged for Harry to shake his head and tell him it wasn't true but Harry just shrugged. Ron should have known damn well they were seeing a relation therapist. He talked more to his wife than Harry himself.

"Yeah. We are," he added, turning over a page and drowning his quill in the black ink. Why was Ron even asking? He'd heard the news from his sister, no doubt about that.

"Why haven't you told me? I thought everything was fine." Harry sighed. The only reason he'd told his best man everything was fine was because he was dreading another discussion.

"Obviously, we're not fine. I don't know if we've ever been fine. Don't be fed up with me though, it was all Hermione's idea," Harry met Ron's eyes briefly before looking away again. The red-haired man rolled his eyes at the Boy Who Lived, making a deep sound in his throat.

"What do you mean by 'I don't know if we've ever been fine'?" Ron asked, an indefinable look in his eyes. Harry returned the look assessingly.

"It just doesn't feel like we're in love. She feels like a sister to me," Harry replied. Harry repeated the words in his head, feeling it's was practically true. He'd chosen good words to describe how their relationship had developed, but he knew Ron wouldn't understand what he meant exactly.

"A _sister. _Are you going mad Harry? You've been married for eight years and now you admit you see her as a sister? I don't have sex with my sister, mate," Ron replied, horrified. Harry sighed again. Typical.

"We haven't had sex either in about three months or so. But even before that we only had sex very seldom. That's not the worst part though." Harry was dying to change the subject. He paused shortly to maintain Ron's attention, then continued: "You never guess who's the therapist." When Ron didn't push the matter about his marriage further, Harry's features softened with relief. If Ron didn't give him the cold shoulder – like he'd done for the past few weeks – this therapist thing would be a lot easier to deal with. Maybe it would get them back together.

"Well?" Ron urged Harry, curious about the news. Harry teased him some more, just facing the man with a emerald gaze, then he spoke.

"Malfoy." Ron's expression of curiosity turned into flabbergasted. Harry loved the way his ears turned red with the shocking news, finally feeling like they were friends again.

"No way." The gingerhead turned around in disbelief, making a 360 degrees' turn.

"Yes way. Ask Hermione. It was her idea. I think it's crazy to tell Malfoy all about our marriage. It already makes me sick just thinking about it." Harry knew Ron would be on his side now. He'd never even tried to say a good word about the former Slytherin, so that was out of the question right now as well.

"I'm sorry mate," Ron's eyes were understanding. Harry's face lit up, a large weigh falling off his shoulders." Hermione's probably lost her mind. I'll talk to her and Ginny, and make sure you don't have to go visit that creep again. We've had to bear with the Ferretface for seven long years," Ron muttered. With this, he turned around and left Harry's office. He had been oblivious to the smile that appeared on Harry's face.

Hermione hadn't even taken the time to listen to how he felt about Malfoy. Ron on the other hand, understood what it was like. You couldn't reveal your deepest secrets to your arch enemy, could you? With the thought of having Ron back as a friend, after eight long months. Harry seemed to get through a bigger volume of work. Maybe consulting a therapist wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Wednesday evening, Ron and Hermione had decided to join them for dinner. As Harry arrived home, Ginny was busy preparing food for six people.

"Hi Harry. Can you help me out a little?" she asked, giving him an air kiss. Harry nodded, not returning the kiss. Instead, he took the knife and cut up the tomatoes.

"You should use your wand, Harry, it's a lot quicker." Ginny shot him a quick glance, continuing mashing her boiled potatoes, frying the steaks and cutting up the unions.

"I prefer cooking without magic. They're not here yet, are they?" Harry retorted. The words hadn't gone cold or there was a knock on the door. "I'll go get it," Harry muttered, leaving the tomatoes for what they were.

"Hi, Ron, Hermione, Rose, Hugo," he greeted the members of the Weasley family. "You got here by car?" he asked. Ron nodded, and Hermione uplifted her eyes as she escorted her two children to the living room. Harry knew Ron had only gotten his driver's license by casting a Confundus charm over the examinator because he was so terrible. The men shared a knowing look and followed their curly haired friend inside.

"Dinner's almost ready, guys," Ginny called from out of the kitchen. "Offer them something to drink, Harry," she added. Her ordering tone quickly got on his nerves. She smiled brightly, but Harry could tell the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was probably pissed at Harry for giving her a hard time at Mafloy's. Or for not returning her kiss just now.

"I'm on it. What are the little ones going to drink?" Harry questioned, as he made for the small bar in the dining room.

"Some juice," Hermione replied, taking of her coat and undoing the zipper of her smallest boy. Rose took a seat next to her mother and took out her wand. It was just a kid's wand, you couldn't actually do magic with it. The most spectacular thing it did was moving objects a few inches. But the bigger the objects were, the less they could be moved. Thus no real magic. Besides, Hermione wouldn't allow it if that was the case. Harry took out the drinking glasses and a plastic goblet for Hugo.

Ginny joined them with the appetizers. "So, how's the therapy going, Gin?" Hermione asked. Ginny hadn't told Harry much about her conversation with Malfoy. Apparently, it needed to remain unspoken what they discussed until Malfoy said so. Harry had merely rolled his eyes. He was glad he hadn't heard her annoying stories. The only thing he feared was facing the former Slytherin next week. Harry could only guess what she had told. Every now and then, his mind would wander to her consultation and the longer he thought about, the more awkward his imaginations became.

"It was fine. I never thought Malfoy would be capable of helping people, but he really seems to know what he's talking about," Ginny replied, handing Hermione over a snack. The red head had a smug, superior look on her face, which made Harry's stomach turn. As if Malfoy could reunite two grown apart adults in just one conversation. Even wizards couldn't perform miracles. He shared a look with Ron, who spoke up immediately.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Ron said, grabbing a handful of crisps.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded, pointing to where the kids were sitting. Hugo and Rose looked up briefly, a questioning look in their eyes. They had no idea what the adults were talking about.

"What? You could have told me you advised my sister to go see bloody Malfoy for help. Then I could at least have stopped you. I'm telling you Harry, don't go to that scum. He's only going to rip you two apart." Hermione's eyes darkened when her husband called Malfoy names. Upon the pained look on Ron's face, she had kicked him under the table as well.

"Malfoy's a good therapist, Ron. Don't listen to him, Harry. He can't give people a second chance." Harry shrugged, following Ron's example. He was not planning on agreeing with the smart witch. He preferred taking the side of his loyal friend this time.

"I'm not telling that guy anything. I'm serious, Ginny. I don't want to spill all my wedding details to the brat." Hermione looked at him disappointedly, but Ginny was the one to reply.

"Well, you don't have a choice, Harry. I told my part, you have to tell yours, otherwise the therapy won't work."

"Like hell it will. I don't care," Harry snapped, infuriated. "You women always try to meddle in everything! Just leave it be, okay?" Hermione and Ginny observed the two men at the other side of the table, their faces darkening. Ron glared back as fiercely, clearly not forgiving his wife for setting Harry up with the Ice Prince.

"Well, fine Harry. You weren't obliged to go, and I won't force you either. Just remember you made an appointment for Saturday. You should at least go," Hermione said. Ginny's blue eyes stared in Harry's green ones, pleading for a chance. Harry rolled his eyes, her begging irritating him even more.

"Fine. I'll go. Just this once." Ron sighed at Harry's decision, but didn't make another comment. He probably knew Harry was cornered and couldn't do anything but agree. Harry suspected Hermione to warn him with her feet, kicking him every once in a while. Ginny smiled warmly, happy because she had won the argument, and went looking for the starters.

* * *

Harry sat down on a chair in the waiting room, straightening his tie. Nervousness washed over his body because he'd be alone in a room with Malfoy. He had put on a suit for the occasion, not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction to see him in his working robes.

Soon, the blonde opened the door and lead him in the interrogation room. The former Slytherin nodded politely, which gave Harry the chills. He ignored it, instead he followed swiftly, sitting down in the white cream couch, instantly crossing his legs in an asocial way. He didn't want to come across as inviting. Nor was he up for a nice chat with the man.

"Well. I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Potter," Malfoy started, taking a seat himself. He placed his slender hands on his long legs and observed the Survivor for a while. The tone in the man's voice irritated Harry to no end.

"Stop calling me mister, Malfoy. It's weird and annoying. I'd rather not be here, but it seems I don't have a choice, now do I?" Harry bit, his body language unkind. However, Malfoy didn't seem impressed.

"Maybe I can start off by asking you whether you would like to save your marriage," Malfoy continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. His facial expression was still interested and calm. Yet again somebody popped the 'saving' question. He should have known that would be the first thing a therapist would ask.

"I don't know. What's there to save?" Harry grumbled. He turned away his head, as to show he wasn't interested in the conversation anymore, facing the large window on his left side. Outside, people were continuing their busy lives, as if nothing strange was happening. Harry's life had just been turned upside down. Merlin, he was sitting in the very same room with his former arch enemy, still, nobody seemed to sense the shift.

"Try summing up the worthwhile things about your marriage, Potter," Malfoy instructed. Harry rolled his eyes, momentarily refusing to comply to an order coming from his former arch-enemy. Then, his gaze left the window, looking around the room, his eyes resting on one of the paintings. In the painting, a large castle occupied the front. The back of the painting was filled with trees, bushes and flowers, making it a lovely scene. It was an old castle, slightly medieval with two big towers and various merlons. It reminded Harry off Hogwarts.

Reminiscent about the past, Harry smiled warily. How he would love to go back to that time. He could blame all his misery on Voldemort. Presently, he was the only cause of his trouble. A list appeared in his head, resembling a header in the Daily Prophet.

_The Boy Who Lived fails miserably_

_What has become of our great Survivor? Many would believe he's become a successful Auror, a devoted husband and a beloved father. Unfortunately, we're obliged to undeceive the dreamers. Harry Potter is not who you thought he was. Here follows a list of subjects in which Mr. Potter has flopped._

_His marriage with Ginny Weasley (the successful Seeker of the Hollyhead Harpies, Ed.)_

_His job as Headauror at the Ministry of Magic; which consists mainly of filing_

_His possible career as a Seeker; which he gave up to become (an unsuccessful) Auror_

_Starting a family; Mr. Potter's best friends have already welcomed two buoyant children _

_Moving on with his life; Mr. Potter is still living in the past, in comparison to his former schoolmates. According to Mr. Malfoy, a succesful therapist, Potter has no delight in life whatsoever and prefers living in the past_

_We hope the Chosen One eventually realizes he's wasting his precious life and disappointing all the people in the Wizard world. And remember: Living life to its fullest makes life worth living.  
If you are not living life to its fullest you are not alive but only existing._

"Potter. Can you answer the question, please?" Malfoy said, waving a hand to catch the man's attention. Harry's eyes rested on the silver-eyed man again, a frown of annoyance creasing his forehead.

"I can't come up with anything," Harry replied, looking down at his feet. Who was he fooling? He was nagging on about not wanting to talk to Malfoy, but at least Malfoy had surprised the world. All Harry had done was let everyone down. Even his wife and friends. Malfoy was unaware of Harry's ongoing reverie and continued the conversation.

"Let me help you, Potter. Think about memories. Things you've done together. Sharing a bed. Helping each other." Harry shrugged again. Thinking about all that made his stomach turn.

"We do what we have to do and that's it. What did you talk about with Ginny? Did you ask her what she loves about our marriage?" Harry threw the man a measured look, observing the well-dressed man from tip to toe. The light grey jeans were tight fitting, revealing every curve in the former Death Eaters lower body.

"I can't discuss that with you yet, Potter. You need to talk to me. Your wife is convinced you don't want to try solving your issues." A hint of concern crossed the blonde's face.

"She's quite correct," Harry murmured, pulling his eyebrows and avoiding his eyes again.

"What is it you're looking for then? Is there someone else? What do you think went wrong in your relationship with Mrs. Potter?" Malfoy questioned. All the while, he was jotting down some keywords in his notebook. Harry could only wonder what he was writing. _Good-for-nothing. Failure. _Or something along those lines, most likely.

"No. There's no one else. I'm not looking for anything in particular. I just think I don't love Ginny anymore. I don't feel attracted to her. She barely has time for me. She annoys me," Harry replied tonelessly, fidgeting. Harry looked up at the man, seeing a brief smile on the blonde's face. It was gone before Harry realized it was there, but he'd seen it. Why in the whole Wizarding World was the man smiling because he didn't love his wife anymore?

"I can see I'm making you uncomfortable, Potter. Everything you say remains in this room, do you understand that? You don't have to be afraid. I won't tell your wife." Harry grumbled in reply. As if he could trust someone who nearly killed Dumbledore. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of that thought. He shouldn't think that. He'd felt sorry for Malfoy too, knowing the young man wasn't capable of killing _anybody, _let alone one of the most powerful wizards that had ever lived. Harry focused on right now again.

"Could you please drop the friendly act, Malfoy? It's bloody irritating. I can't believe I'm sitting here face-to-face with you, talking about what a MESS I am. Because I know what a useless slacker I am, Malfoy. I KNOW! I don't need _you _to point it out for me!"Harry spit, standing from his seat and looking at the grey-eyed man in fury.

"Potter. Calm down. I know it's not easy. Don't blame it on yourself." The words that left Malfoy's mouth felt so standard and impersonal, it only made Harry's temper rise.

"THAT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY! YOU'VE GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT, HAVEN'T YOU? You've made your life worthwhile! Look at me! People don't even talk to me anymore, Malfoy. They used to be all over me, and I didn't like it, but you know what? I miss it. I really do. Back then, people cared. Now, they just look at me, seeing the nobody I've become." Harry turned around and walked to the window, placing his hands on the windowsill. His breathing was irregular, his voice raw from screaming. "The worst part is that tabloids keep on talking. They follow me everywhere."Malfoy walked up behind him, his voice still friendly.

"You're not a failure, Potter." The words sounded so sincere, so easy to believe. But Harry couldn't forget the position they both were in. Malfoy was only being the therapist he was supposed to be.

"You only say what you need to say! I can tell you're just trying to keep up your professional act, Malfoy!" Harry seethed, pushing the man away. Malfoy was surprised by the force Harry used, but composed himself quickly.

"I don't have to do anything Potter. I can do whatever I want, and I'm just trying to help." A small blush crept on the taller man's face, leaving Harry to wonder it was because of embarrassment or angriness.

"Don't. That's what everyone does. They only make it worse," Harry groused, turning his back to the blonde again. He stared out the window, not even seeing the people on the street anymore.

"I don't want to say it, but I have to. You're a strong person, Potter, a pushful man. You just lost your goal."Harry looked at Malfoy like he was an unidentified Magical Creature.

"Goal? What's that, some psychic stuff? How can you tell? Can you look inside my brain perhaps?" He scolded, keeping up the walls Malfoy was trying to take down. His shoulders tensed, his behavior becoming all the more distant.

"Your goal was to defeat the Dark Lord, Potter. I read the tabloids, and I know you've hardly enjoyed life since the war is over. You know it yourself, don't you?" Malfoy questioned. Harry felt a blush of embarrassment creeping up his face. Here he was scoffing around, hurting people, while his former arch enemy saw straight through him. Why couldn't his wife be like that?

"I work. That's my goal," Harry said defensively, but he knew that argument was invalid.

"You don't enjoy work, do you?" Harry didn't reply to the question, and Malfoy continued talking: "This is what I'll give you as an assignment. Go home, and find something you like. Fly a broom. Or do something you've always postponed. Next week, we will try to find a way to make it happen. Okay?" Malfoy said. Harry just pulled an eyebrow at the blonde.

"You're just a relation therapist. You don't need to help me with anything else, Malfoy." Harry tried to put as much venom in the man's name as possible. The only certainty he had right now was his hate for the man standing in front of him. Everything else was just a blur.

"Every relationship has roots for its problems. It is very common for couple to not love each other anymore when they feel they don't get enough out of their life. Besides, I'm not here to fix your marriage. I'm here to help both of you as a person."

"That sounds farfetched to me, Malfoy."Harry commented fractiously.

"Just give it a try. We'll talk again next week," Malfoy said, friendly as ever. He touched Harry's shoulder lightly and gestured to the door. Instantly, Harry froze, all the irritation and frustration oozing from his body. The spot where Mafloy's hand had touched his shoulder burned, sending a hot feeling through his body. Harry wanted to tell the former Death Eater to watch his hands, to never ever touch him again, but his mouth couldn't form the words. He wanted to hex the man for entering his personal space, but was unable to reach his wand. All he did was standing there, a curious emotion taking over his body.

"You're allowed to go now." Harry stepped out of Malfoy's office dumbfounded, still unable to talk. He didn't look back at Malfoy, who was probably watching him from out the doorway. He looked around the waiting room, meeting the eyes of a older Wizard, who was nearing his fifties. He had the same dull look on his face Harry saw when looking in the mirror. He shook his head, not wanting to grow old living a dreary life. He flooed back home, the image of the old man burned on his retina and Malfoy's hand burned on his shoulder.

Upon entering his living room, Harry looked around. He didn't want to turn in such a boring old man he'd witnessed in the waiting room. He walked into his kitchen searching through some drawers for a quill and a notepad. All the while, his mind was still turning, trying to get grip of the conversation he'd just had.

He hadn't expected the appointment to take such a strange turn. Malfoy had changed a lot after all. Hermione was a smart witch, and he wondered whether she knew the man would've had such a strange effect on him. The blonde had been right. He had actually pointed out something no one had noticed before. Ever since Voldemort was killed, Harry didn't have a goal anymore.

But now he did. Even though he wasn't happy that the idea had come from Malfoy, he couldn't wait to start thinking about what he could do with his life. Harry was still searching, then realized he was a Wizard and Accio'ed the stuff he needed. With renewed energy, Harry sat down at the kitchen table with his a notepad, some ink and a quill and started brainstorming.

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3: Something I like

**Hi! Here's the next chapter as I promised. I have two betas working on the story, but haven't gotten anything back from them up until now, so you'll have to do with the raw version. I figured I wouldn't let you wait since you read chap 1 and 2 not betaed as well!**

**Enjoy! **

**A/N: This chapter has been betaed by the wonderful ActorPotter. She did an amazig job and will beta the rest of the story as well. A lot of credit goes to her!**

Chapter 3  
Something I like

"_The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams."  
― Oprah Winfrey_

Harry opened the small storeroom in the backyard, and with a swing of his wand the light switched on. At the back of the storeroom, his old Firebolt and Quidditch tools were put away. He used a Tergeo spell to clean off the dust and weighed the enchanted wood in his hands, as nostalgia washed over him. He had no clue why he had put this broom away. For some reason Harry had simply stopped doing all the things he loved.

Harry took used his cleaning spell again to dust off his Quidditch clothes. As he put them on, he was reminded of the loaded athmosphere in the Gryffindor dressing room. He could clearly see Wood pacing around the room while Fred and George made fun of him. He could also see Ron, all dressed up to play his first match. Harry smiled unwandtedly, and stepped outside.

Harry took his broom outside and mounted it, a nervous tingling feeling rising up in his chest and spreading all the way from his fingertips to his toes. The sun was shiningand a small breeze lifted Harry's pony up, revealing his scar—the only thing he had left from his past. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if flying was the answer. He then took off. As soon as he hit the air, all his worries evaporated gravity was unable to grab ahold of him. He was back in his element, his Firebolt reacting instinctively to every single move he made. Even though he knew there wasn't one, Harry peered around the backyard for the SnitchIt was a natural instinct.

Harry had no idea how long he'd beenin the sky when he noticed Ron staring out his window at him He was flying laps around Grimmauld Place –high enough so the Muggles couldn't see him—and when he passed by his house againHarry descended, hopped off his broom, and went inside to see his friend.

"Hi. I was outflying," Harry said taking off his goggles, feeling vibrant. His voice sounded unnaturally enthusiastic,to himself unlike his now commonplace monotonous tone. He felt better than he had in years. He tried not to think about who had helped him to make this decision to go back to what he loved. If he did his mood would be spoiled . Ron looked up, happy to see his best friend.

"Oi, mate. I was looking for you. Ginny's been with us all morning, playing with the kids and stuff. We're heading for Diagon Alley now. You want to join us?" Nausea overcame Harry quickly, his enthusiasm ebbing away.

"I don't know. I just got home from my appointment with Malfoy." Harry sighed. Hearing his wife's name had unleashed a dull feeling in his heart, draining all the joyfulness and lightheartedness from before. He had momentarily forgotten about the woman. If Ron would've asked to go to Diagon Alley alone, he wouldn't have hesitated. long,"

"Really? I didn't expect it to last that frowned, plopping down on the sofa. Harry cast a tempus charm, and with surprise realized he had missed out on lunch

"No, it only lasted for about an hour. Then I got home and took out my broom," Harry replied, taking off his Quidditch clothing. He observed Ron, a feeling of contentment settled over him as he observed his friend. He was happy that he could talk to Ron again. It was still surreal that Ron didn't mention their small war, since Harry had expected the Redhead to bring it up, but Harry didn't complain. He was happy to move on. It was very peculiar that all these good things seemed to happen now that Malfoy was back in their lives. Harry shook his head. Making up with Ron had nothing to do with Malfoy.

"I thought you didn't fly anymore? It's been ages. Why the sudden change?" Ron noted, and It was just that he'd forgotten about it in his new life, being stuck in his usual routine. Harry smiled at his friend's astuteness. He definitely had picked this quality up from Hermione.

"Malfoy told me to do something I like, in order to reorient myself and find a new goal in my life." The raven -haired boy undid his shin pads, and threw them on the coffee table. His arm guards soon joined them.

"You're not considering listening to that git, are you Harry? You're just fine, mate. Aren't you happy? You don't need to fly for that bloody Death Eater, you know." Ron tried to be protectiveand Harry understood why. The only reason he disapproved was because Malfoy had brought it up, not because he didn't want Harry to fly anymore.

"I'm not, Ron. I just wanted to. He could be right, for all I know," Harry explained. It was difficult to try and say what exactly had happened in Malfoy's office, because Harry couldn't quite wrap his head around t himself.

"You're actually listening to Draco bloody Malfoy, Harry?" Ron shrieked in a high- pitched tone. Harry should've known the man wouldn't take it well. After all, the Weasleys and the Malfoys were sworn enemies. Harry muttered, shaking his head while replying.

"No, I don't want anything to do with that fool. But he made me realize I don't have a goal in my life anymore. I'm bored with my life, Ron, I already told you." That didn't seem to convince his friend either.

"You don't need a goal to have a good life," Ron retorted, crossing his arms. Who was being cross-grained now? Harry just shook his head, taking off his knee pads, almost finished with undressing his Quidditch clothes. He should have known that his euphoria would have only lasted for a brief moment. Sooner or later, your feet had to touch the ground again.

"I'm not exactly living a good life, am I?" Harry added sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, grabbing his Quidditch gear to put it back in the box. .

"You have a loving wife!" Ron exclaimed, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. So much for making up with Ron. For a moment, Harry felt like giving the man a talking-to because he was meddling in his life and assumed Ginny was a _loving _wife, but the Survivor tried to keep his voice down. However, his annoyance was clearly audible.

"Loving wife? We're in a bloody crisis, Ron. I can't keep on living like this," Harry gestured with his hands around the house. "For starters, this stupid place reminds me of Sirius all the time. It makes me think about all the people I've lost." He wasn't ready to solve all his issues yet, but Ron asked for itthis. He grabbed his Firebolt, ready to put it back in the shed, when Ron would leave again. Again his friend Retorted instantly.

"I've lost my brother, Harry. I know how it feels." Ron's blue eyes glimmered, fresh tears appearing as the man thought about Fred. For a moment, Harry felt sorry for bringing it up.

"I'm sorry, mate. But I know you wouldn't like living in the Burrow either. . Ron just shrugged, but Harry could tell he was feeling uncomfortable. Ron never liked talking about the war and nor did Harry.

"Well, I'm just saying I'm going to try listening to Malfoy. . You never know what it brings. Hermione's right. Malfoy has changed. He's not that cocky coward anymore."

"Harry, please. Did he brainwash you?" Ron blurted, jumping up from the couch to touch Harry's forehead. Harry didn't know how the man was supposed to tell if he'd lost his mind from touching his forehead, and merely smiled, putting down the Firebolt and gesturing for Ron to sit back on the couch. He would puthis gear away later. .

"Stop it already, Ron. He didn't do anything. We just talked. What about Ginny? Did she tell you anything yet?" Harry asked, summoning two glasses and a bottle of Butterbeer. Ron licked his lips, but shook his head at Harry's question.

"No. She did tell Hermione, but Hermione refuses to tell me because she knows I'm going to pass it on it to you." Harry sighed. That sounded like Hermione. Ron continued, "She explained _Doctor _Malfoy prefers to work with you separately, and will bring you two together at a later date. " Harry was glad there was a slight subject change and happily reacted to Ron's imitation of Hermione's statement.

"Yeah. I know. He told me so himself. Doctor Malfoy, really? Has she gone mad?" Harry giggled, filling the two glasses up and taking a grateful swig. He was finally getting hungry – he hadn't eaten since this morning.

"Sometimes I really think that's the case. She's a very smart woman, and I love her to bits, but sometimes she's a bit of a lunatic." Both men laughed out loud, sipping their beers and enjoying the silence for a while.

"Aren't they waiting for us?" Harry said casting another Tempus charm. He got up to send away his broom to the shed with a banishing charm.

"Oh, right" Ron replied shrugging goofily, he clearly had forgottenthe reason he had come to Grimmauld Place.

"I really enjoyed being on a broom again, you know. We should do it together some time," Harry smiled, putting away the glasses with a swing of his wand.

"Now we're talking," Ron replied, returning the smile. "I suggest we get some beers in the Leaky Cauldron first and then go visit George in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Great. Weren't Ginny and Hermione coming as well?"

"Yeah, they're going with the kids to get some ice cream. Then they'll probably go shopping and I really don't want to go along with them. That's why I asked you," Ron explained sheepishly.

"I'm flattered," Harry grinned. "I'll go clean myself up and then we'll be off." He then took offbouncing up the stairs.

* * *

Harry took a seat on the terrace at Florean Fortescue. Hugo and Rose were sitting on his left side, Ginny on his right. The sunthrew bright rays of sunlight on Harry's face It was a beautiful Saturday. The waiter came to take their orders Ron took a Firewhisky, much to Hermione's despise. The kids got Pumpkin Juice and a sundaes and Harry ordered another Butterbeer.

"So, Harry. How was your appointment with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, a friendly look in her brown eyes. He returned her smile, avoiding eye-contact with his wife.

"Fine. We talked," Harry replied, not wanting to reveal more. Ginny wasn't allowed to hear what had happened. Harry felt very happy about that, since he didn't want the therapy to be a reason for them to talk more. Even though he always thought therapy was supposed to make them talk more, he liked that they could keep it a secret for now. He still didn't know how to feel about the conversation he'd had with Malfoy, or about the fact that the Slytherin would be the one to sort out his marriage issues. Hermione nodded approvingly, happy that the first talk went well. Harry didn't know if he wanted to continue seeing Malfoy, but he was going to meet him again next week, as promised. He wanted to discuss the things he wanted to achieve in life. Not specifically with Malfoy, but right now he was the only one interested inHarry_ personally _and not in the _married _Harry and his wife Ginny.

"I told you he was good, didn't I?" Hermione boasted, moving her body to make room for the waiter who brought them their drinks.

"I didn't say he was good. I just said we talked. That's all. I don't know if he'll be able to fix us. I don't even know what there is to fix, so-" but Harry was cut off by Ginny.

"Don't start again, Harry. Don't you want it to be like before?" Her red hair was put up with a shiny pin, giving her what many would describe as a gorgeous look and revealing her slender neck. But Harry was indifferent to her charming looks. He shrugged at her comment, grabbinghis Butterbeer and taking a large gulp . He didn't want to start a fight in front of his cousins.

"Uncle Harry, don't be greedy," Rose pointed out, making Harry put his drink down again.

" I'm sorry, Rose. You're right, I shouldn't drink so fast. So, what are you up to this afternoon?" He asked the little girl, gladly ignoring Ginny's comment and offering the young girl all his attention. His smile lingered on his face as he watched the girl respond joyfully.

"Mom and I and auntie Ginny are going to shop," the five-year-old said, brushing her brown-red hair with her small fingers. She beamed, revealing a white row of teeth with one missing in the front.

"Me too!" Hugo yelled, loud enough to disturb the passengers on Diagon Alley. His short legs dangled from his chair, shaking his mop of red hair as he shouted. The ice cream was splattered all over his face, and Hermione wiped it away with a wet tissue

"Of course you can come Hugo, but don't scream like that okay?" Hermione said in a very motherly tone. She made the tissue disappear with a swing of her wand. Hugo was playing with his screaming yo-yo. However, the boy was too young to figure out how the thing worked, and all it did was bounce up and down once, before it didn't move anymore. Harry smiled inwardly, observing the kids while they were playing with their toys and eating ice cream.

"Oh, before I forget, Ron and I are going to visit George. Is that okay?" Harry asked, looking from Ginny to Hermione. It was not that he wanted to ask his wife permission, he just wanted to announce their visit to the man without being rude.

"Sure. We don't need men to escort us, now do we?" Ginny teased. Hugo looked up at her, bursting with pride as he spoke "I'm a _man,_" the little boy said, full of pride. Ginny laughed, heaving her pint of Butterbeer up to the three-year-old, toasting him, before taking a nip. Harry pulled an eyebrow at his wife and exchanged a look with Ron. The latter gulped down his Firewisky without pulling a face, as if it was just Pumpkinjuice.

"Let's hit the road, shall we?" Ron said, nodding for Harry to get up. They left together, heading for the Weasley's shop. Harry was glad Ron had gotten them out of there, not because Hermione and the children were there, but because his wife was constantly on his skin. He could feel her look burning intohis neck the whole time, trying to force him to look at her.

"I totally adore your kids, Ron," Harry mentioned, making his way through the mob of people making their way along Diagon Alley. They took over the slow pace of the shopping wizards and Harry relaxed under the sun.

"You should make some of your own, Harry," Ron suggested, smashing his friend on the back as appreciation of the compliment. "Maybe that'll save your marriage. It'll bring new life in your home." The relaxed feeling disappeared in a heartbeat when Ron brought up his marriage yet again.

"I'm not sure, Ron. I don't want my kids to grow up without parents, you know. I need everything to be perfect before I choose to get kids." Harry had put a lot of thought in this, and even though he was ready to have kids, he would wait for the perfect moment.

"You're not leaving Ginny, are you?" Ron asked him suspiciously. Harry knew they had neatly avoided the situation until now, but it needed to be discussed sooner or later. Ron would most certainly not like it, but Harry answered truthfully nonetheless.

"I don't know Ron. I'm not happy right now. Isn't that the reason why I have to put up with Malfoy?" Ron's glance was fixed on the pavement, eyeing the display windows as they passed by, but Harry could tell he was concentrating on their talk.

"Yeah, but I don't want you to leave her. I don't want you to hurt her. She's my sister, mate." Ron's tone was calm but firm, confirming Harry's fears of losing his best friend when he would divorce. Thinking about divorcing Ginny made Harry's hair on the back of his neck rise, but his pulse would speed up, full of anticipation about the opportunities life would bring after that. However, losing Ron was like a vicegrip around his heart, and he said to his friend. .

"I know she's your sister, but you don't need to protect her. She can decide for herself. Besides, I didn't say I would leave her, did I? I'm just not sure if we're meant to be."

Ron glared at him, but Harry looked the other way, pretending to be oblivious to his grumpy friend. "I think you're perfect together." Another one of those know-all comments. As if they knew how it was like to be with Ginny.

"Yeah? Try sleeping with her," Harry snapped, sounding a lot harsher than he intended to. At this, Ron fellsilent. They didn't speak anymore until they reached the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. As they entered the shop Harry said,"I just love Fred and George's shop. It's something I've always admired about them. I'd love to have a shop like this Be my own boss and such." Harry smiled at his own words, loving how they tasted in his mouth and sounded in the air. His own boss. Wouldn't that be nice?

Ron looked up, instantly forgetting about their little argument. "I wouldn't want that. I helped George out, remember. It's hard work, believe me." They entered the colorful oke shop, amazed by all the new products George had invented.

"I know. But that doesn't matter, because in the end, it's your own shop," Harry replied, a smug smile stuck on his face. They made their way inside, passing through some small aisles and zigzagging around other clients. There were about twenty people in the shop. George immediately spotted them.

"What wind blows you here, Ronnikins?" George smiled, greeting both men with a jovial slap on the back. Harry smiled at the taller man. It felt great to be there again, and Harry realized it had been way too long since they stopped by.

"We just came to say hi," Ron replied, scanning the area for something interesting.

"You don't get anything for free, Ronald. Don't forget that. Harry on the other hand, take anything you like, my friend," George whispered in Harry's ear, still loud enough for Ron to hear. The youngest man of the Weasley family eyed his older brother indignantly.

"That's not fair! I'm your brother. I used to work here! Don't I get some special staff discount or something?" Ron grabbed a fluffy ball, threw it up in the air a couple of times and caught it again, until the ball bit his finger. "Au," Ron muttered, throwing the thing back in its box.

"That only applied when working here, Ronnie. Go on, browse through!" he edged Ron on his way. The man continued down the aisle, shooting his brother a livid glance while caressing his hand where the ball had bitten him. When Ron was outside hearing distance, George turned to Harry again, a red eyebrow pulled. His serious facial expression made Harry fidget with his fingers, and all of a sudden, he knew where this conversation was going to lead.

"Biting fluffs, 2 Sickles each. They're very popular," George started. Then, he turned serious all of a sudden. "I heard you and Gin are seeing a therapist," he said, his voice concerned. Harry looked up, surprised to hear worry instead of anger in the man's voice.

"Yeah, that's true. It was Ginny's idea," Harry replied tonelessly, avoiding George's eyes and looking down at his feet. Soon enough, the whole Wizard World would know the famous Survivor was seeing a therapist.

"Mom told me all about it. She's really crushed by the news you see." Harry's eyes grew in shock, as he met George's deep blue eyes. "I don't want to alarm you, Harry. I think people are too nosy for their own good. It's your relationship, and you should know what to do with it."

Harry nodded in reply, not expecting the sudden change. Ever since this thing had started his loved ones had told him to save his marriage. Now, out of the blue, George told him to do what _he _thought was best, and Malfoy had told him to find something _he _liked. Harry didn't know what to say anymore. It was as if he had lost his tongue. Nevertheless, George continued: "Angelique and I, we have our issues. But I don't think consulting someone else can save a marriage Harry. If you're unable to get through the shit together, it won't work using a therapist either." Harry observed the twin brother in disbelief, his mouth opening to reply. He still didn't know what to say exactly, so he closed his mouth again, giving the older Weasley a short nod .

"What I'm trying to say is this: even though a lot of people will say that you must try your hardest to save your marriage, you need to just try your hardest to be happy again. Whether that includes your marriage, is for you to say. However, I do have a hunch it doesn't," George finished with a short wink.

"How do you know?" Harry replied, flabbergasted. How was it possible for the man to know him so well? Had he suddenly gone transparent? He had barely seen George the past few years, still he had given him the most worthy advise so far. Apart from the advice Malfoy had given, all had told him to save his marriage with Ginny. Harry was positive if someone came up to him now and told him to adore Ginny with all the love he possessed to save his marriage, he would hex the living hell out of that person. George's response snapped him out of his reverie.

"I just wanted to give you my opinion about it. That's all. There are no general truths in it, you can choose as you please. It's just a business man helping you on the way," George joked, grinning from ear to ear. George seemed always happy, even though he had suffered a lot under the loss of his twin brother. Harry looked up to the man, admiring his delight in life.

"I love your shop, George," Harry said, while looking around in awe. He didn't know how to reply to George's disclosure, so he changed the subject. The fact that George wouldn't mind if he chose to divorce Ginny lightened Harry's mood.

"Yeah, you already said that. A million times," George repliedchuckling. "Maybe you need to think about starting your own shop. There's a free property not far from here. It's on the north side of Diagon Alley." As George finished his sentence, a young boy called out for him, drawing the man's attention back to his clients. "That's my call. I need to go," George smiled, slapping Harry on the back one last time.

Harry just stood there, still not sure what had just happened to him. This Saturday turned out to be the weirdest day in his life. George's opinion was very unexpected. Admitted, he always could talk to George – and Fred as well. During Hogwarts they always seemed to read his mind and they helped him with a lot of things. But at this point, Harry hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't talked to the man in ages. The last time he'd seen him was on the annual Weasley family's celebration at the Burrow. He'd been with Angelinathen, so they hadn't really talked in private.

As Ron returned with a large bag in his hand, Harry gestured the gingerhead to follow him outside. "I'm all done. Are we heading for the Leaky Cauldron now?" Ron suggested moodily. Harry smiled, knowing that the reason why his best friend was pissed off was because George refused to give him a discount.

"No, actually. George told me there's a property for sale on the north side of Diagon Alley. I'd love to go check it out. Are you coming?" Harry asked, walking in the opposite direction. Ron turned around, a puzzled look on his face.

"What are you going to do with a property inDiagon Alley?" he inquired, his voice filled with confusion. He was still standing in front of the Jokeshop, Harry already ten feet away. .

"I'm considering starting a business myself," Harry replied brightly, a cheerful feeling streaming through his veins. Ron pulled an eyebrow, frowning as he followed Harry along the shopping street. They halted in front of a small decaying building, with a large shop window. The letters on the window were blistering off and the inside looked very muggyThe brown paint on the door was peeling off. The building seemed very gloomy next to all the other brand new shops and buildings.

Despite this,, Harry looked at the property with wide eyes and a large smile, making Ron all the more dumbfounded. "This is it," Harry said, reaching in his pocket to grab a folded piece of parchment. He opened it, and Ron stood closer to be able to read Harry's handwriting.

_**List of things I didn't do**_

_Fly my broom_

_Open a coffee shop_

_Go on a holiday_

_Keep a pet (preferably fish or an owl)_

_Quit my job_

_Move away from Grimmauld Place_

_Learn to ride a motorcycle_

Ron's eyes remained fixed on the second line on the parchment. "Open a coffee shop? Where the hell does that come from?" Ron asked bluntly, snatching the parchment from between Harry's fingers. Clearly, Ron had no idea that Harry'd always wanted to be self-employed.

"I've thought about that a lot, actually. After I graduated from the Auror training, I realized I didn't want to be an Auror. I had my share of evil, and did my part for the Wizard world." Harry's tone was defensive, trying to prove his idea wasn't ridiculous. Harry should have known Ron wouldn't like it.

"No one said you needed to become an Auror, Harry. It's what you _said _you wanted to become." Harry rolled his eyes. Ron had a point, but still, it was as if his friend always overlooked things about him. George had seen what was the matter instantly. Harry thought for a second how to explain how he'd decided not to be an Auror anymore.

"Yeah, at first I thought so too. But then I realized it was only what everyone expected from me. You know, it had always been my fate to fight Voldemort, and right there and then I wanted to decide for myself for once."

"So why didn't you quit? It still doesn't explain the coffee thing. That's a muggle drink, isn't it?" Ron asked, returning the parchment to Harry and switching the bag to his left hand, because it was getting heavy. He massaged his right hand with his thumb, stretching his fingers several times. After getting the cramp out of his hand, he focused on Harry again.

"Coffee is a Muggle drink. But it's very delicious, you see. I don't get why you're acting so weird. You eat the same food as Muggles don't you? Why are drinks so different?" Harry questioned. He got a Muggle pen out of his pocket and quickly wrote down the exact address on his to do list. Then the duo turned around to make their way to the Leaky Cauldron.

"They aren't different. Hermione drinks a lot of coffee. I just didn't see you as a merchant, that's all. It's so sudden," Ron said, a pained expression on his face. Harry realized he was trying to figure out whether Harry had ever talked about opening a shop or not. He quickly helped his friend out of his misery.

"I kept it to myself. It was just a silly dream to me. A vague representation of how things could have been. But Malfoy told me to find things I like, so I jotted them down this morning. I didn't expect George to know about my desire, but he actually did." For some reason, Harry felt very happy about that.

"Yeah, he always said he saw a business man in you," Ron muttered, still not getting the crazy reversal of their day. "I thought he was joking." Harry shrugged in reply, a comfortable silence falling upon them as they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

The men ordered two Firewhiskies and took a seat at one of the small tables near a window, not wanting Tom to overhear their conversation. Harry was still pleasantly surprised by Ron's quick mood changes.

"So, are you going to do it?" Ron asked, after gulping down half of the contents of his glass.

"I don't know. I'll think about it," Harry concluded. He looked outside the window, watching how busy Muggles passed by in high tempo. The scene reminded him of the view outside Malfoy's window this morning. He spotted a red phone booth. Instantly, his thoughts went to the Minsistry, and Harry sighed.

"I just don't feel like being Headauror anymore. I hardly see you, all I have to do is filing, and I just don't want to do it." Ron observed him, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Besides, if I quit, that means you'll get a shot at being Headauror. I know you've always wanted that."

Ron smiled, nodding as he glanced outside the window as well. "Don't worry about me, mate. I'll be just fine," he replied. "Just make sure you don't do anything you'll regret."

Harry returned the smile, sipping his Firewhiskey and looking outside the window again. The alcohol scorched his throat and left a hot trail all the way to his belly. The burning drink, Harry realized wit ha startresembled the hot wave that Mafloy had caused by touching his shoulder. He shook his head, reprimanding himself for thinking about Malfoy again. However, no matter how he put it, today had been by far the best day of the week, if not the best day of the year. It had been so long since he'd last been happy.

For the first time in about nine years, he smiled a genuine smile. He squeezed Ron's hand, drawing his attention before speaking.

"I'll be fine, too."

**To be continued…**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: A Romantic Evening

Chapter 4  
A Romantic Evening

"_Happiness is not the absence of problems; it's the ability to deal with them."  
― Steve Maraboli, _

Harry managed to get through the workweek by thinking about the coffee shop as much as he could. He didn't want to admit it, but he was quivering to show his list to Malfoy on Saturday. Ginny had a session with the man on Wednesday, and when she returned she looked like Lavender after she received a private lesson of Divination with Professor Trelawney.

He had asked Ron not to say anything about the coffee shop to Hermione, wanting to wait until he knew what Malfoy hadto say about it. Not that it mattered what the prick thought, but he didn't want Hermione to run his idea into the ground. She'd probably recite all the flaws in his plan, and he didn't want to be brought down right now.

Harry unfolded his list for the umpteenth time, while waiting for Malfoy to call him in. He'd arrived ten minutes early and felt like his eleven-year-old self when he'd arrived atHogwarts for the first time. The shiny white door of Malfoy's office opened, and a blonde head popped through. "You can come in, Potter," he said, the extra-terrestrial friendly tone ruling his voice again. Harry rolled his eyes, preferring the sneering tone. At least the latter was his real voice, not that of some fake-friendly benefactor wannbe.

Harry got up and followed the former Death Eater into the consultation room. They each took their seats and Malfoy looked at him expectantly. "So. Tell me, did you find something you would like to do?" His grey eyes observed him with interest. An uneasy feeling, resembling the one he had last week, settled in Harry's stomach and he quickly averted his eyes, unfolding his parchment again.

"I did," he replied softly, handing the note to the blonde. Malfoy gently took the parchment from his hands, his fingers slightly brushing the palm of Harry's hand. The touch sent shivers down Harry's spine, and he retreated his hand quickly. A flood of emotions passed through his body, making it difficult for Harry to focus on the man sitting in front of him. Malfoy read the list with a blank face. Harry waited while the man finished reading and then ooked back up at Harry. The expression in his eyes was amused.

"I never knew you wanted to open a coffee shop, Potter." Harry rolled his eyes, feeling instantly offended. He should have known Malfoy would make a fool out of him.

"Go ahead, laugh about it. I already thought it was stupid to write it all down," Harry bit, crossing his arms and glaring back at the therapist.

"I wasn't trying to mock you, Potter. If that's what you want to do, you should give it a try. I must say I'm very fond of cappuccinos myself," Malfoy said, uplifting the left corner of his mouth. The grin revealed a small part of Malfoy's white teeth. Harry shifted in his seat, not knowing why the grown-up Malfoy had this effect on him and feeling all the more nervous under the intriguing grey stare.

"I will. Thanks for that. I think the problem is solved now, isn't it?" Harry said, motioning to get up and leave. He held out his hand to ask for his parchment and looked at Malfoy expectantly.

"Not so quick, Potter. That was only a start. We still have lots of things to discuss." Malfoy placed the piece of paper down on the coffee table, taking his notebook instead. Harry withdrew his hand, disappointment creeping up his face. Why didn't Harry have a say in this? Malfoy wasn't his mother, now was he?

"But I thought you'd say finding something I like would be enough?"

"I didn't. It is a start. I still want to fix your marriage, Potter." At this Harry glared at the man again, a deep crease forming between his eyes.

"Very frightening, Potter. Firstly, I want to talk about how you're planning to bring about the coffee shop idea." Surprisingly, the conversation seemed to head in the right direction.

"I saw a property for sale in Diagon Alley. I will find out how much it costs. I've got enough money in the bank, so that won't be a problem. George can help get me started by informing me of all the things I need to know."

"You realize you have to take classes to become a merchant, Potter? You'll have to get a degree in business management. I'd do that first if I were you." Here he was, expecting fireworks and congratulations, because of his good work, but instead Malfoy was lecturing him.

"Fortunately for both of us, you're not me, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "I have to buy the property, otherwise someone else will. I'll quit my job as well," Harry said, determined. Why couldn't anyone just willingly agree with what he had to say? Harry was getting sick of all the corrections people made trying to outsmart him.

"Good. I'm glad that you have something to look forward to, Potter. A goal. Frankly, when you first came in here, I hardly recognized you. There was nothing driving you. I think you're starting to get it back," Malfoy noted, a tiny smile crossing his pink lips. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"And I think you're frightfully friendly," he muttered, grabbing his piece of parchment off the coffee table and putting it back in his pocket.

"Whatever, Potter. You're a grumpy old fool." Malfoy's tone was partly sneering, partly joking.

"Don't try to pick a fight, Malfoy. You know I'll win," Harry boasted, shooting the man a challenging look.

"Don't think I can't handle you anymore because I'm trying to have a civil conversation, Potter. I'm not obliged to be friendly to you outside my working hours, remember." Harry's face darkened, realizing what Malfoy was saying. He was only being friendly because it was his job. The former Slytherin actually hadn't changed at all.

"Well, I'd love to continue the session. I want to ask you a couple of questions," the taller man continued. "Do you feel like being Headauror has badly affected your marriage?" Malfoy asked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Did you pop that question to Ginny too?" Harry fired back, putting his guard up. He was about to be buried under a series of irritating questions, and Harry did not like it.

"I did actually. But I'll talk about that when the two of you come visit me together. That might take a couple of weeks, though," Malfoy informed. Harry's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline.

"A couple of _weeks?" _He bellowed. "You don't actually believe I will waste my time to this crap for another couple of weeks, do you?" His angry voice filled the airy room, resounding against the walls.

"I understand your frustration, Pot— "Oh don't give me that, Malfoy," Harry interrupted him, "You know bloody well I hate being here. You're having a good time, don't you! 'Saint Potter trying to puzzle his life back together. What a numbskull!'" Harry said angrily, , standing up from the couch. If there hadn't been a Silencing Charm on the office, the people in the waiting room would have most likely started to doubt Malfoy's therapeutic powers.

"Potter, would you please calm down? I'm a professional, do you understand? I don't let previous events influence the way I help my patients." Again, the blonde went by the book.

"You just said you're only being friendly because it's your job!" Harry screamed, throwing his hands in the air.

"I don't have to lie about it, do I? I'm just trying to do my job here! You just need to be a little more cooperative. There are a number of questions I would like to ask." Malfoy's cheeks were slightly turning pink. Harry narrowed his eyes threateningly, anunknown feeling passing through his stomach, mingling with his anger and then sinking lower. It was the same feeling he'd had before with the blonde, but Harry couldn't quite distinguish what it felt like.

"Fire away," Harry grunted, sitting down again. His anger was ebbing away slowly, but he still shot the man sitting in front of him a murderous look every now and then.

"Firstly, I don't think you're a numbskull."

_Yeah right, you don't! _Harry thought

" You do have a way of picking your words, but that's irrelevant right now. How are your relations with Ginny? How do you feel about her?"

"What do you mean?" Harry was confused, not quite understanding Malfoy's question.

"Do you have sex with her? How is the sex going for you?" Malfoy eyed him, holding his quill at the ready to write what Harry was going to reply.

"I'm not telling you about my sex life, Malfoy. It's none of your business. Who do you think you are?" Harry roared, rage returning within seconds.

"You've got a serious temper, Potter. Stop being the cross-grained here. I didn't force you to come, nor will I force you to come back. Feel free to go now." Harry avoided his gaze, shame pulsing through his body and coloring his face. He felt like a screaming yo-yo, bouncing from one emotion to the other.

"You'd be out of here in no time if you just cooperated," Malfoy added, clearly losing his patience. Harry felt satisfaction that he could get Malfoy out of his professional state.

"My sexlife's fine. Besides, a couple of weeks isn't _no time_," Harry said stubbornly.

"Ginny told me you haven't had sex in 3 months," Malfoy replied, ignoring Harry's last comment. His voice sounded a little colder than before. Harry noticed the change, and met the man's eyes again, challenging.

"I thought you weren't allowed to talk about what she said?" Harry shot back. "You have no right to know that, Malfoy! No right at all! You want to make a fool out of me? Go ahead, have your laugh. We haven't had sex in three months, so be it! We hardly had sex since we were married. Honestly, I don't think we ever had_ real_ _sex_!"

Malfoy remained immobile, watching Harry venting his bad mood. When he was finished, Malfoy said, "I understand that you're frustrated, Potter. However, I'm not here to take sides. If you're too immature to talk about sex in a normal way, so be it. Nevertheless I would ask you politely to discuss it in a more silent way."

Harry calmed down again, realizing how stupid he was acting. He gave one short nod, and Malfoy took the floor again. "It is very common for couples not to have sex anymore during a difficult period in their marriage. Is there a difference in the way you experience the sex you had in the beginning of your marriage as compared to now?" Malfoy asked. Harry's eyes widened, a blush creeping up his face.

"I don't know. I er…" Harry looked around the room again, too uncomfortable to meet the man's eyes. "It's just sex, I think. It's never really mind blowing or how they describe it in the books. But it's practically … you know, the same as in the beginning," Harry replied, not trying to stammer as he tried to express his experiences. First he was overpowered by anger, now it was the time for embarrassment to be a spoil-sport.

"Good. What about your conversations? Do you find it easy to talk to your wife? What do you talk about? Work? Can you talk about your feelings or insecurities with her?" Malfoy asked. Harry didn't know why the man ignored his flustered appearance. He'd expected the man to point a finger and laugh about it, instead he just continued his rant of questions.

"Are there any easy questions?" Harry protested, sighing as he thought of a reply. "Lately, we hardly talk. All we do is say what happened or ask what we'll eat or things like that. What do you mean by insecurities?" Harry replied, fidgeting with his hands and looking around the room. The hot swirl in his abdomen wasn't very helpful, and he avoided Malfoy's eyes.

"Subjects you're insecure about, Potter, what else? For women it's mostly looks, and whether their husband is loyal or not."

"I've never been disloyal," Harry replied defensively.

"I believe you, you're a Gryffindor after all," Malfoy replied, a small hint of admiration flashing in his eyes. However, it was quickly diminished by annoyance mixed with disdain. Harry blinked twice. Admiration? He had probably been daydreaming. Malfoy didn't admire his Gryffindor qualities.

"I don't really talk about my insecurities. I tend to keep them to myself." Harry's tone was monotonous, trying to let the therapist know his questions were incredibly dull.

"Good. For this week, I want to ask you to organize a romantic evening to surprise your wife. Try to express things you're not sure about and ask for her opinion." The task sounded like a death sentence to Harry.

"I don't want to organize anything romantic. We hardly speak!" he exclaimed.

"Just try it. You can tell me how it went next week." Malfoy closed his notebook, and looked up at Harry.

"What did you give _her _as an assignment? Continually nagging about returning to the stupid shrink?" Harry grumbled, clearly not happy with Malfoy's suggestion.

"No," Malfoy replied dryly. "I can't tell you that, Potter. But I did give her an assignment."

"Brilliant," Harry bellyached, getting up. "I don't think I'll see you next week. You can just keep that time for someone who actually wants your help." He marched to the door, anger radiating off him with every step he took.

"Oh, but you want my help, Potter," Malfoy sneered, his voice suddenly changing. Harry turned around, meeting the former Slytherin's eyes. The glint was vigorous, reminding Harry of the boy back in Hogwarts. For a brief moment, Harry faltered, but then composed himself again.

"I don't," Harry replied resolutely. The playful grin around Malfoy's lips tugged on his bellybutton. Harry averted his eyes again, the look Malfoy gave him wasindefinable.

"I'm off," Harry said, feeling more worked up than before. He exited the room, walking through the waiting room to make his way to the floo network. He had actually believed the former Malfoy was completely gone. How could he have been so naïve? The fact that the stuck-up brat inside the blonde was still present should have pissed him off, but instead unleashed the same strange emotion Harry wasn't familiar with. It felt like nerves, but he wasn't nervous in the slightest.

He shook his head while leaving Malfoy's office and flooed to Grimmauld Place, trying to erase that feeling from his mind. However, he failed miserably.

No doubt, he would have to strangle Malfoy sooner or later.

LINEBREAK

Monday morning, Ron stopped by in Harry's office, entering his office without knocking. It was becoming an annoying habit. Harry looked up briefly, meeting the eyes of his best friend.

"Hi, Ron," Harry greeted, a small smile crossing his face.

"Oi, mate. You seem an awful lot happier than a couple weeks ago," Ron noticed, taking a seat on top of Harry's desk. Harry chuckled lightly, shaking his head before grunting.

"Well, believe it or not, I'm not happy at all," Harry muttered, putting down his quill and leaving the paperwork for what it was. He looked up at Ron, blue eyes eyeing him curiously.

"What's the matter?"The man already suspected a blonde man had to be part of it, and Harry replied, confirming the Ron's suspicions.

"Malfoy. He told me to organize something romantic for Ginny."

"Well. I don't like to say it, but it's a rather good idea isn't it? Girls love romantic stuff," Ron said, a thoughtful frown rippling his forehead. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. Now all of a sudden this was a good idea, while the flying thing had been stupid because Malfoy had come up with it. Lucky for Harry, Ron hadn't seen his nuisance, and Harry quickly replied.

"Yeah. But I don't want to do it because it's Malfoy's idea. It's silly." The lie past his lips smoothly, knowing very well it was the Ginny part that withheld him. He grabbed his quill again, playing with it while looking at Ron.

"Don't tell her that it's Malfoy's idea. Pretend you just feel like it," Ron said, waving the comment away with his hand. The carelessness added to Harry's frustration, but he locked it away carefully, not wanting to start another fight with Ron, most certainly not in the Ministry.

"No. I don't want to, Ron. It's not going to change anything. It feels like bribery," Harry sighed, avoiding his gaze and staring out at the magical window. The sky was clear, just like it would be above the ground.

"Do you want to divorce her?" Ron asked bluntly. The undertone in Ron's voice showed that he didn't like popping the question. Of course, the marriage had to submerge at some time.

"NO, I don't. I don't know," Harry exclaimed, feeling all the more dreadful. "I'm not sure." He was fearing Ron's reaction because of his honesty, but the redhead remained calm.

"Then wait and see. Listen to Malfoy – I really don't like saying that, but still – I think he's right. If you don't try, you'll never know for sure." Harry glared at his best friend. That was not the answer he was hoping for. He was rather expecting something along the lines of: "You got my permission to divorce Ginny. I don't want you to be unhappy." But well, that would be asking for too much.

"I thought you were the one who said Malfoy brainwashed me," Harry pouted accusingly. He tried to disguise his anger as fake-displeasure, and it seemed to work well.

"He probably did. He's a Death Eater, Harry." Ron's eyebrows rose, his serious tone sounding extra-terrestrial to Harry. Ron wasn't one to be serious, especially not with Harry.

"Ron! You should know very well that Death Eaters don't exist anymore! You're an Auror," Harry reprimanded, resembling Hermione as he spoke in a firm way.

"Whatever, I'm going to start my shift now. Good luck with Ginny," Ron grinned, hopping off Harry's desk and exiting the office. Harry grabbed his quill, trying to focus on the case lying before him, but his thoughts trailed off. First they circulated about Ginny, then they wandered off to the person who'd given him this assignment.

Malfoy. The man had grown up so fast. He'd changed a lot in the past nine years. He'd grown at least four inches, he was very muscular and his hair wasn't combed backwards and lank anymore. Instead, blonde strands brushed his forehead, and from time to time, the longer ones fell into his eyes. Harry shook his head in disbelief. Malfoy's appearance might have changed, but he was still the same snotty teenager that he was at Hogwarts. He was just trying to make a fool of Harry, using his expensive words to fool Harry.

All of a sudden, the feeling he'd had before, resembling nervousness, washed over Harry. It was the same feeling Harry had in reaction to the blonde's touch. His warm, slender fingers had only briefly brushed his hand, however it was enough to catch Harry off guard.

Had Malfoy done that on purpose? Had he touched his shoulder on purpose? The memory of the sensation that had set his shoulder on fire caused Harry shake his head. He needed to focus on his work. Malfoy was just trying to confuse him. That's all.

* * *

That evening, Harry decorated the living room of Grimmauld Place. The sofa was covered in a cherry red blanket. He'd conjured wine red cushions to make it more comfortable. He'd placed candles all across the room and had darkened the windows. The only light came from tiny dancing flames, giving the room a cozy look.

He'd placed two wineglasses on the coffee table and had stopped by in a Muggle shop to buy a bottle of Burgundy. Ginny loved red wine. He had taken a seat onthe sofa, waiting for the woman to arrive. He was having a nice time just sitting there, until he heard the fireplace. Ginny stepped out, dusting off her robes and entered the living room. He heard her gasp as she gaped across the room, a smile crossing her face. The dancing candles threw shadows on her face. She looked at her husband, still not moving.

"Harry? You did that for me?" she questioned, making her way to the sofa and taking the seat next to Harry. She had a hard time taking her surroundings in.

"I did," Harry replied, trying to force a smile. He was getting uncomfortable. He cursed Malfoy in the back of his head for making him do this. This was the last thing he wanted to do with Ginny right now.

"You even got wine!" Ginny exclaimed, happiness beaming off her. She seemed very satisfied with the situation. Harry could feel how her revelry affected him, lightening his mood as well. He smiled back at his wife.

"It's your favorite," Harry grinned, grabbing the bottle. He opened it with a loud pop and filled the two glasses. After putting the bottle back down, Ginny threw herself on Harry, embracing him in a tight hug. Harry wrapped his arms around the gingerhead, burying his face in her hair. The red locks smelled like coconut and lilies, making Harry smile against the younger woman's head. He loved her smell. It was something that had always captivated him, and all of a sudden sadness filled his heart.

How could he not love this woman anymore? They'd spent so much time together, made so many memories. Harry felt how the wave of contentment being replaced by guilt. Was he really out of love?

Ginny let go of him, taking his face between her small hands. Their eyes locked, before Ginny leaned in for a kiss. It had been more than a month since they last kissed, apart from their pecks on the cheek and lips. Harry opened his mouth to let Ginny in, their tongues meeting. She greedily entered his mouth, earning a frown from Harry's. Ginny's smell and taste was all over his body and a mixture of feelings rushed through his veins. It felt nice to share an intimate moment after all this time, but at the same time, it felt uncomfortable and weird.

Ginny deepened the kiss, and Harry started to feel uncomfortable under her weight. He opened his eyes to look at his wife. Her eyeswere closed, enjoying the kiss to its extent, while Harry was feeling less and less at ease. Ginny stripped off Harry's shirt, her actions driven by passion. She rushed a bit too much to Harry's liking and the enjoyable feeling faded away. Harry could feel the woman slowly become aroused. Her fingers touched his torso, making their way to his shoulders. She massaged his tense muscles, earning a relaxing moan from her husband. Harry relaxed against the couch, enjoying the massaging hands with closed eyes. It felt better than her raping his mouth with her tongue.

"Oh Harry," Ginny whispered, her breath tickling his ear softly. Harry opened his eyes again. Ginny's blue orbs were filled with desire, her pupils dilated. Harry flinched, just sitting there watching how Ginny touched his body. He felt unable to touch her. She then took his right hand and placed it on one of her breasts.

"Touch me," she mouthed, barely audible. Harry squeezed her breast before lowering his hand to caress her belly. Ginny threw her head back, the mop of ginger hair tickling the back of Harry's left hand, that was holding her in place on his lap.

Slowly, Harry became aroused as well. Blood rushed down his body, hardening his cock just slightly. A playful smile crossedGinny's lips as she felt the little bump underneath her. She didn't notice Harry wasn't ready yet, but instead unzipped his trousers and slid her hands under his boxers. The touch of her cold fingers, made Harry shift a bit, restlessness entering his body again because Ginny had no clue about how he felt whatsoever.

She wrapped her hands around the base, giving steady pressure before moving up and down. Harry closed his eyes, trying to focus on what Ginny was doing to him instead of hisirritation. Slowly, Harry's cock continued to harden, warm waves of pleasure washing over Harry's body. Ginny quickened her pace already, not reading Harry's body language correctly. It felt too rushed, to be honest. However, it had been so long since Harry was touched and he bucked up his hips, moaning in pleasure and need.

He threw his head back on the couch trying to focus on his own pleasure instead of the words Ginny was whispering. "You like that, Harry? You do don't you?" Ginny whispered. Harry wanted to tell her to shut up, instead of talking to him as if he was a little kid, but he was afraid his horniness would go away if he spoke. His breathing became irregular. A flash of grey crossed his mind, as he was nearing his orgasm. The silver color reminded him of something. Blonde eyelashes accompanied the grey orbs, and realization struck just as Harry crossed the edge.

Malfoy.

* * *

Harry hurried down Diagon Alley, making his way to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He had just gotten off work in the Ministry and wanted to see George before heading home. He had asked him to join him this evening. They would be checking out Harry's property. He wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into someone.

"Sorry," Harry said, looking up to see whose hard chest he'd hit. He was _almost _surprised to see the platina blonde hair and silver eyes glancing at him amusedly.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed, rolling his eyes and stepping aside to pass by the taller wizard. The other people just walked around them, not even taking the time to look at the two men who had halted in the middle of the street.

"Potter. How lovely to see you here," Malfoy sneered, a small curl around his pink lips. The sarcasm dripped off his voiceand immediately set Harry's teeth on edge. Malfoy was the only person who could drive him insane with just one sentence.

"Don't even start, Malfoy. Stop acting so weird all the time." Harry eyed the former Death Eater discontently not having forgotten what had happened three days earlier. Even though the outcome of his assignment hadn't been Malfoys _fault, _Harry still blamed him for haunting his thoughts.

"I'm just greeting one of my patients, Potter. I'm a grown man and allowed to do whatever Iplease," Malfoy replied, his grey orbs darkening.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Harry fired back, having heard the shift in Malfoy's tone. Harry hadn't seen the man get angry before, and eagerly jumped at the opportunity to comment on it. . It was so tempting to just provoke the Ice Prince.

His green eyes staredinto the silver ones challengingly.

"No, you didn't. Next time, watch where you're going." Malfoy shot the shorter man a warning glance. He made to continue, but Harry quickly retorted.

"Don't order me around, Malfoy. I'm a grown man too, you know." Harry lifted his chin a bit, gathering up his inches to face the haughty man before him. Malfoy stopped in his movement, looking up and down Harry's length.

"If that's what you want to believe, go ahead. In my opinion, you're a childish adult who thinks he's got it all figured out." Malfoy's words hit like lightening, but Harry covered it up as fast as he could. Childish? Who did he think he was?

"Are you picking a fight with me?" Harry growled, eyes clouding over with anger.

"No, I'm not. But since I'm not in my consultation room, I can say what I want. You're immature, Potter. Try growing up. Maybe your marriage wouldn't be such a disaster. Have a nice day," Malfoy turned on his heal, maneuvering through the mass of people elegantly, his platinum hair disappearing in the crowd.

"Like you're all grown up now," Harry muttered, continuing his way to George's joke shop. His body was pulsing with wasn't just his fault his marriage hadn't worked out. If Malfoy thought he would take this, then he was awfully wrong. He didn't want to talk to a person who had just accused him of ruining his marriage. Still, Harry couldn't deny that Malfoy's words had affected him. What if the blonde was right? What if this entire situation was his fault, but he was just too blind to see it? His head was twirling with thoughts about Draco Malfoy, making it difficult to concentrate on the coffee shop and George.

The annoying prick had to ruin everything for him. He had even succeeded to ruin his only sexual moment with Ginny, earlier this week, by intruiding his thoughts during their intimacy. The moment kept replaying in his brain, but he had no idea who he could talk to about it. He tried to set his mind off of things and knocked on the front door. George opened, a wide smile on his face. "There you are. I locked up an hour early so I could come with you."

"I see. That's great." Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His mouth corners were only slightly lifted, before they dropped, clearly showing his huff.

"What's the matter? Is the property gone?" George questioned, suddenly alarmed. He looked in the direction of the shop as his eyes widenedwith worry.

"No, it's fine. Malfoy," Harry replied, a small smile crossing his lips because George could read him that well. It still felt new to him to have George supporting him.

"He can be a pain, can't he," the red-haired man grinned. The respect he felt for George grew in his stomach, adoring how the man could adjust to him.

"Yeah, I just ran into him," Harry explained, starting to walk. George closed the door and joined him in the main street of Diagon Alley.

"He's not a bad kid, though. He's got his heart at the right place," George continued. Harry looked up to the taller man. He couldn't believe George was talking good about Malfoy, the very person who'd always looked down on George's family.

"You're kidding, right?"

George shrugged in reply, smiling with his eyes.

"Let's focus on your coffee shop for now. I don't want to spend too long here, Angelina will be waiting." Harry smiled at the thought of his former Quidditch teammate.

"Course," he replied, his mind wandering to how Ginny would have just left the food on the table again. "I'll be quick." They reached the empty shop and waited for the owner, with whom they had made an appointment. An old, short man halted before them and smiled a nearly-toothless grin.

"You must be Harry Potter," he said. Harry nodded, shaking the hand the old man held out. The old man's eyes quickly switched to his forehead, and Harry had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. After all these years, people still tended to do that.

"That's right. You are Mr. Poppet," Harry greeted. They entered the place, George following suit.

"It's not much, you see. It needs a lot of renovation, before it can open again. Here's the counter. The house was built in 1840, so it's very outdated. This room about 40 square meters," the bald man explained. Harry just observed, nodding in reply. "In the back there's a storage room. I used to store the merchandise of my shop in there," Mr. Poppet explained, pointing to a double door in the back.

"Is there a possibility to live upstairs?" George asked. Harry quircked an eyebrow, surprise by the mention of living there, but Mr. Poppet answered before he could say anything.

"Yes, of course. I'll show you. Come around here," Mr. Poppet gestured. They walked through a thick oak door, which led to what looked like a stable staircase. The three men went upstairs. The owner opened the first door, revealing a small room.

"This is the first room. It's rather small. It used to be a bedroom. There's also a bathroom, through here. The second room is a lot bigger." They entered the second room. A large window lit up the room. It gave a nice view on Diagon Alley. Harry smiled, walking through the dusty room.

"This could be your living room," George suggested. "You could build a small kitchen there. Here's room enough for a table. Your sofa could go there." George pointed towards the corner. The gingerhead looked at Harry questioningly.

"That'd be great," Harry smiled, puzzling the pieces together in his head to form a picture. Even though it was rather small compared to Grimmauld Place, Harry loved it. He didn't need all that space anyway. He liked small things, ironically enough. Maybe it was because he'd grown up in the cupboard under the stairs.

"There's a third floor as well. It's an attic, but you could convert it to a bedroom as well," Mr. Poppet informed, leading them to another stairwell. The attic was very spacious as well. Harry nodded approvingly, a smile plastered across his face. After the – rather short – tour was finished, all of them went downstairs again.

"The construction seems rather stable. It won't be necessary to put up new walls," George said, looking around again. "What do you think Harry? Is this what you're looking for?" Harry liked how the man helped him verify if the house was worth buying and nodded fervently. Of course, George had bought a shop himself and knew a bit about what to look at.

"It's exactly what I wanted," Harry replied, smiling from ear to ear. Even though he felt like a rookie the whole time, it was thrilling to decide something completely by himself.

"What's the price?" George asked. That was probably the most important aspect of the evening. Both Harry and George eyed the owner expectantly.

"This property costs 20 000 galleons," Mr. Poppet said. Harry quirked an eyebrow, having no idea whether that was a lot or a bargain. He looked at George briefly, who shook his head softly, hardly noticeable.

"That doesn't even include renovations yet," the twin brother replied. "I think it's too expensive." Mr. Poppet fidgeted, starting to get nervous. He would have to negotiate with the Boy Who Lived.

"What's your offer?" the man asked. George was quicker, replying in Harry's place:."Fifteen thousand, not a knut more," he said confidently.

"Fifteen? I cannot sell you this place for fifteen thousand galleons. Eighteen thousand, that's my last offer."

Harry was about to open his mouth to agree with the offer – already feeling guilty for trying to haggle on his coffee shop – but George was quicker.

"Seventeen, and we have a deal," George responded, not even blinking.

"Deal," the old man sighed, grabbing a roll of parchment out of his pocket. "These are the official documents of the building. You need to sign _here _and _here, _Mr. Potter." Harry took the quill the man was offering him and read the document before placing his name under it. He then looked up at the man, taking out some parchment himself.

"I'll write you a note for Gringotts. They will transfer the seventeen thousand Galleons to your account, Mr. Poppet," Harry replied, starting to write. He signed and sealed the document before handing it to the owner.

"As soon as the money is transferred, I'll contact you again," the man said, putting the document away in his suitcase.

"Great. Have a nice evening," Harry said, before turning around. The three men left, Mr. Poppet heading in his own direction. Harry and George made their way back to the joke shop. Harry's steps were springy with joyfulness and he was unable to wash the smile off his face.

"Well Harry, now you're officially the owner of the coffee shop. That calls for a celebration, doesn't it?" George laughed. Harry beamed. "Thank you, George. I'm really glad you could come and help me out on that. I've never bought a premises before." Harry gratefully nodded to the brother of his best friend. He was happy to know the man. He'd been so firm. Harry would've never been able to handle the deal so well on his own.

"You did great. As soon as you get the key we'll look for some people to help renovate the place. I know some good pals," George winked. The redhead opened the door to the Wizard Wheezes and entered, gesturing for Harry to follow. All this news only increased Harry's happiness, feeling washed over by his own emotions. It had been so long since he had been this merry.

"Have a drink before you go home. You can use the floo. You don't have to go to the Leaky Cauldron again. They'll only keep you up." Harry nodded in agreement, following the twin brother upstairs. He couldn't believe his dream was finally coming true. Admitted, it was only a decaying shop, but it was a start.

A start of something new.

**To be continued…**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Moving on

**Hihi! This is the next part. I've been very busy, and so is my beta, but still she managed to get it done! Thanks a lot to ActorPotter, she did an amazing job. Enjoy!**

Chapter 5  
Moving on

"_It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default."  
― J.K. Rowling_

Harry entered the light room, large windows making it as if they were sitting outside. He took his usual seat in the white sofa.

"Mr. Potter," Malfoy greeted, his tone professionally friendly. Harry shot him a cold look, not having forgotten their encounter in Diagon Alley last Thursday. He'd been so cruel, clearly showing that all of this was just a professional cover. How could he believe anything the git was saying? Honestly?

"Malfoy. You can consider yourself lucky I wanted to come," Harry growled. Malfoy just quirked a blonde eyebrow. His eyelashes fluttered shut, and without warning Harry felt a hot feeling in his abdomen. Malfoy was wearing a beige cashmere jumper which emphasized his muscular torso. He wore a coconut coloured pair of trousers. They were tight fitting jeans, showing every curve in the slender man's legs.

"You're not obliged to come, as I said before. I want to talk about your task. How did it go?" Malfoy opened his notepad and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry should have known the man was going to ask about that. The enjoyable feeling in his abdomen sank a little, spreading the heat to his crotch, making Harry very uncomfortable. .The fact that he hadn't been able to concentrate on his wife's sexual actions that night, and had instead fantasized about his current therapist confused Harry to no end. He tried to hide his arousal as well as he could before clearing his throat.

"It went well," Harry replied vaguely, not intending to spill any details to the blonde—in particular the details to his orgasm. Harry cursed the former Slytherin again, blaming him for what had happened to him. How had it even been possible to think about Malfoy when he neared his climax? Harry crossed his arms, dissatisfiedly. He'd been hoping to rant about their coincidental meeting a little more and was displeased with the developing conversation."That's accurately described, Potter," Malfoy noted sarcastically. He shot the raven-haired man a look filled with disbelief, and then continued, "Could you tell me what you did?" Malfoy seemed to like where this was going. He was probably sensing Harry's uncomfortableness, and his moodswings.

"I er… I decorated the house. I bought some wine too. We kissed a bit." Harry looked at his feet and trailed off. His trousers were getting too tight and he felt more uncomfortable with every minute. Having to lie about what had happened during a sexual moment with Ginny, while the person sitting in front of him had been a main character in it, made Harry shift in his seat. Malfoy had been watching him too closely, the look in his eyes arousing Harry even more. He needed to get out of that place. He looked up again, and saw Malfoy was observing him attentively, eyes fixed on Harry's pants. Harry felt a twitch down bellow.

He tried not to show the shock on his face. Malfoy met his green eyes calmly, not showing the slightest evidence he had witnessed his groin just now – although it'd been obvious he was staring at it a minute ago. "Ginny told me you two had a nice time. That's good. Well, done Potter. You're doing great. I think you're starting to realize what this therapy is all about. The fact that your relationship is falling apart is because you're taking each other for granted." Harry raised an eyebrow at the man.

"You're the one who told me it was _my _fault my marriage is a disaster, you pointed that out very clearly in during our encounter in Diagon Alley," Harry snapped, changing the mood of the conversation once more.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter. Calm down. I have every right to say what I want in private. I'm here to help you, not to say you've done a great job for your marriage so far," Malfoy retorted, a pink blush creeping up his face. Harry didn't know whether the man was just angry or embarrassed,

"I don't want to be helped by a man who thinks it's all my fault. Thank you very much." He crossed his arms stubbornly, refusing to look at the former Slytherin.

"Well, why aren't you leaving then?" Malfoy sneered, his body language hostile. Harry prepared for a fight, setting his jaw before answering.

"Because I do _care _about Ginny. I want to try for her. It's just not going anywhere, you see. It feels like I'm treading water," Harry complained, raising his voice. Uneasiness washed over him, not knowing what was the good thing to do or say.

"Good. You're finally telling me how you feel. That's a start," Malfoy sighed contently, taking notes in his pad. "In the past few appointments you've just told me the facts of your marriage. You're finally telling me how you _feel."_

"I don't feel like informing you about how I feel, Malfoy. You least of all people I know." Harry's tone was emotionless, but the despair was nevertheless visible in his emerald orbs.

"Then why are you here? Just stop trying to mock me and take a decision. Either you go now and don't return, or you can stay and stop behaving like a child." Malfoy's tone was firm, warning Harry not to push him any further.

"I'm not a child," Harry growled, feeling like strangling the man before him. "I just don't trust you, Malfoy. How could I, after all that's happened?"

"What's happened is in the past, Potter. You should move on. How is your coffee shop coming along?" Harry frowned at Malfoy's words. He hadn't expected the man to have so much wisdom in him. He probably was a good therapist after all. At the mention of the coffee shop, a wave of pride washed over Harry, erasing the wrath from just seconds before.

"It's coming along great. I signed the contract to buy the property. Once Gringotts has transferred the money and the house is officially mine, George and I will start renovating." Harry sat up straighter, showing how happy and proud he was about this project.

"George Weasley? I didn't know you were close with him," Malfoy answered with interest. He jotted down some more notes, and Harry tilted his head, trying to read them. However, he was sitting too far away, and he quickly gave up, answering the question.

"Yeah, we get along great. He understands why I want to open a coffee shop. Ron's a bit reserved about it," Harry said thoughtfully, thinking about his friend. He hadn't told him yet, nor had he told Ginny. He already knew she wouldn't like the idea.

"I'm glad you have someone to discuss it with. Starting a business isn't something you do overnight. Have you told Mrs. Potter yet?" Harry glared at the use of Ginny's last name, but replied calmly.

"I haven't. I don't know what she'll say, and I don't know if I even want to tell her. I don't want her meddling in it. I want to do this by myself." The direction of the conversation changed instantly, the enthusiastic glint in Harry's was extinguished.

"I understand. But she's your wife. If you don't tell her, your relationship will suffer even more, undoing the work we've done so far," Malfoy gently explained. The friendly tone in his voice felt strange to Harry, knowing it was only a cover, but it comforted him nevertheless.

"Whatever. It's my life after all," Harry grunted. Why did the subject have to change back so quickly? He enjoyed thinking about his coffee shop. "What do you think about me opening a coffee shop?" Harry asked, honestly interested. Malfoy seemed pleased that Harry had calmed down.

"I think it's a wonderful idea. It won't be easy to realize it, but it's good. I always thought you were ambitious and it actually surprised me you only wanted to be an Auror. You should decide for yourself if it is something you want to share it with your wife or not."

"I'm not sure," Harry said, doubtful. Somewhere inside, he wanted to reserve this knowledge for himself, do something alone for once. Including Ginny in all this would only tie him to his marriage even more. "I wonder whether I would miss Ginny. I feel like just taking a break from everything that has to do with her to find out if I can live without her – or better if I _want _to live without her." Malfoy eyed Harry curiously, his silver irises shining with interest.

"That's a good strategy. But it's a tricky one, because your wife needs to agree on it. Besides, if it turns out you miss her, it won't be easy to convince her you still love her."

"I would know for sure then." Harry was determined. Malfoy uplifted one corner of his mouth in a crooked grin, his grey eyes as light as molten silver.

"True. I suggest you keep that thought in the back of your head. I'd prefer to continue with the appointments to see what it does to your relationship. If it doesn't work, we'll try your strategy. Now, let's discuss how you felt during your intimate moment with Ginny. Did it feel like before?" Malfoy asked, no sign of embarrassment whatsoever.

"I won't talk about the experiences in my sex life, Malfoy, I thought I already said that." Harry rolled his eyes.

"And I thought I already assured you that everything you say doesn't leave this room."

"You may use it against me when we meet at Diagon Alley or somewhere else outside _this room _again," Harry accused, squinting his eyes as he threw the blonde a calculated look.

"And we're back to square one," Malfoy sighed, putting down his notepad. "If you want me to apologize for what I said in Diagon Alley, I will. I'm sorry for that. But I must add that you were being disrespectful and rude too. Now, tell me how you experienced the intimate moments with your wife as compared to before," Malfoy repeated. Harry could hear he was starting to lose his patience and Harry smiled, realizing the thrill he got out of getting a rise out of the former Slytherin hadn't wavered since their Hogwarts days. However, if felt weird that Malfoy apologized, it didn't feel like something the Ice Prince would do. Feeling guilty for being so difficult all the time, Harry replied.

"It was weird. But it wasn't really different than before. Mostly, she doesn't quite understand what I expect." Harry trailed off, not sure if this was what Malfoy wanted to hear. He nervously fidgeted with his hands, avoiding the blonde's look.

"How do you mean?" Malfoy questioned, a concentrated frown in his forehead.

"Well, for example, she thinks as soon as I have an, … you know, that I'm all hot and bothered and she starts her job. But I'm actually not ready yet," Harry clarified, stammering along the way. Malfoy observed the Survivor in amusement at his reluctance to use proper terms.

"Well I'll be. Turns out the Survivor isn't such a tough one, is he? One would think you're able to do anything after defeating the Dark Lord. You can call it an erection, Potter, it won't hurt you to say it out loud," Malfoy playfully pestered the other man. At this, Harry's green eyes filled with fury again, green flames burning up the peaceful room.

"I'm trying, Malfoy, I thought that's what you said I had to do!" Harry bellowed, not trying to keep his cool this time. "You're the immature one now. I'm just a bit uncertain, that's all. I've never talked about this before." Mafloy seemed surprised by Harry's outburst and quickly apologized.

"You're right, Potter. That comment was out of line. I think I understand what you're getting at. Have you tried talking to her about it? Does she ask what you like?" There was still a crooked grin present on the man's face, but Harry ignored it.

"Er… Well, she tends to talk to me, but it's not really asking, it's rather presuming that I like it," Harry explained, his stomach turning uncomfortably. His thoughts quickly switched from Ginny's talking to the Malfoy-part. He could feel how his face turned crimson and his erection returned with renewed energy.

"Good. I'd like to ask you to have sex with your wife again-" Harry let out a short 'hmph' –"and try to tell her what pleases you. If she does something wrong, tell her politely. She'll notice and do the same with you if you're doing something the wrong way."

"Alright," Harry sighed, getting up from the couch, already dreading the coming week. He wasn't someone to talk about such things easily, let alone with his wife, someone who he had been having sex with for nine years, and had never said a word while doing it.

"Good. I'll see you same time next week," Malfoy concluded, slightly touching Harry's elbow as he led him to the door. His elbow was instantly set on fire, the tingling feeling making its way up to his shoulders. The hot feeling slid down his back, making Harry curl his shoulders in pleasure. He turned around to look at Malfoy, who was waiting for Harry to leave. Feeling idiotic just standing there, Harry asked, "Are you married, Malfoy?"

"No, I'm not, Potter. I don't feel it's necessary to prove my love to someone with an everlasting vow. It's sufficient for me to just say I love you," Malfoy explained. Harry was impressed by Malfoy's philosophy. He'd never known the man to be so clever and well thought.

"So, you're single then?" Harry questioned. Curiosity took the better part of him, and Harry impatiently waited for Malfoy to reply.

"No. I have a boyfriend," Malfoy replied, a small smile crossing his pointy features. Harry's head turned as red as a tomato. Harry quickly returned the small smile, nodded and said goodbye. He left the room sunken in his own thoughts. He should have known Malfoy was gay. He was always well dressed, had never shown interest in girls. Why did it come as such a surprise to him?

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of his confusing thoughts. He needed to tell Ron about this.

* * *

Harry couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about the shop and his new discovery about Malfoy, so he decided to stop by their house immediately. He entered through the fireplace and stepped in their living room. Rose was playing with a talking doll. Harry cleared his throat, announcing his arrival. The girl jumped up, her soft amber locks dancing around as she ran up to him.

"Uncle Harry!" the little girl squeaked, hugging his legs as soon as she reached him. Harry lifted the girl up, giving her a normal hug. "Mommy, mommy! Uncle Harry's here," she exclaimed, enthusiasm written all over her young face. Harry put her down again and she ran inside the kitchen, returning with Hermione.

"Hi,Harry," the woman smiled, gesturing him to join her inthe kitchen. "Did you have another session?" she asked. Harry made a consenting noise in the back of his throat, observing Hermione's kitchen. She was preparing lunch. Her kitchen was a mixture of a Muggle and a Wizard kitchen. Muggle appliances were spread all across the counter and the soup was on the stove, magically stirring itself. Rose returned to get her doll and followed them in the kitchen. "Don't play on the ground, Rose, I'm making lunch," Hermione added, eying her daughter fondly.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, sitting down at their round shaped kitchen table. Rose crawled on Harry's lap, showing him her speaking doll. Harry took a hold of the doll, which addressed him immediately. Harry was surprised by the functions the doll had. It could recognize up to ten different voices and spoke five different languages, including Mermish.

"He's still in bed. You can go ahead and wake him," Hermione replied. The brown haired girl looked a bit irritated that her husband was having a lie-in, but Harry could see the cherished look on her face. Harry stood up again, excused himself from Rose and her doll – which was telling all about Harry's history to the five-year-old – and mounted the stairs.

"Ron?" Harry opened the door to the master bedroom. "Ron, it's almost noon," Harry called out to the little heap of covers on the mattress. The man didn't move, snoring loudly.

"Rhhrrrrr."

"Ronald!" Harry snapped, mimicking Hermione's way of calling out for her husband. Ron shot up, his hair all messed up, his eyes looking bewildered. He looked around, realized he was lying in his own bed, then focused his eyes on Harry.

"It's just me. Lunch is almost ready," Harry smiled, sitting down on the non-occupied side of the double bed. Ron pushed back the covers, starting to scratch his legs and arms.

"Oh. Hi, Harry. What are you doing here?" Ron asked bluntly, gradually becoming awake.

"I stopped by after a session with Malfoy." At this, Ron's head shot up, instantly fully awake. "You never guess what I found out," Harry continued, happy to have the redhead's attention.

"Spill it," Ron said, smoothing his hair and putting on a pair of trousers.

"Mafloy's gay," Harry said in a mock-dramatic voice. His words had the wanted effect on his best friend and Harry saw his deep blue eyes widen.

"What?! That pathetic Death Eater is a bloody faggot?" Ron blurted. Harry nodded in reply, getting up to leave the room again. "That's so gross," Ron murmured, making a gagging noise. He grabbed a sweater and followed Harry down the stairs.

"Hi, honey. You'll never guess what Harry just told me," Ron announced, sitting down next to his daughter. Hermione pulled an eyebrow, a questioning look in her brown eyes. "Malfoy's gay. He's just sick, that bastard. He shouldn't be allowed to be a therapist, that bloody piece of sh-"

"Ronald! Your daughter is sitting right next to you! Could you please keep the dirty language to yourself?" Hermione scolded him. What's this all about?" She looked l at Harry expectantly.

"Malfoy's gay," Harry repeated.

"What's the problem? Is he bothering you?" the wise girl inquired.

"No, no. He told me he had a boyfriend. But Hermione, we're consulting a gay therapist to save our marriage," Harry explained, his green eyes full of skepticism

"I don't see what the problem is. You two are just taking this too far. There are a lot of gay people in the world, you know. It's not up to you to judge them." Hermione put the sandwiches and the soup on the table and turned around, leaving the kitchen to get her three-year-old son.

"Hermione's really gone mental this time," Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief. " I can't believe I married her sometimes. She never agrees with me."

"You're exaggerating, Ron. She agrees with you a lot. However, I feel like she keeps defending Malfoy. He's having sex with men, Ron. Do you understand?" Harry said as realization struck his own mind. The thought of Malfoy fooling around with a man was imprinted on his retina, and Harry felt a hot wave washing over his body. Harry snapped out of it when Hermione returned.

"You men are so immature. If it were two women, would you mind?" she inquired. Ron's look blurred, clearly musing about two women together. Hermione slapped his back with the ladle, warning him with her eyes. "That's what I thought," she added, sitting down in her own seat. "Feel free to join us, Harry," she added, handing him a sandwich.

"Thanks," Harry replied, a deep frown on his face. The thought of two women together was even more disturbing than two men, and Harry shook his head to get rid of the uneasy feeling. Hermione's corner of her mouth uplifted slightly, showing that she'd seen Harry's reaction. Harry however, didn't notice the woman eyeing him curiously. He took a bite of his bacon sandwich, a small smile crossing his face at the taste. "They're really delicious, Mione," he complimented, nodding approvingly. Hermione smiled widely, a small blush creeping on her face. Harry felt happy to be with his two friends again, and wondered why he didn't do that more often. Then he realized he was coming here with a purpose.

"Oh, that reminds me. I went to Diagon Alley earlier this week. I bought the property I talked about," Harry announced. He took another bite, chewing as he waited for a reaction.

"A property," Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow. Harry hadn't spoken to her about that yet.

"Yeah. I've always wanted to open a coffee shop," Harry explained. Hermione had a confused look on her face. "It was Malfoy who put me up to it. He said I needed to find something I like, so I did."

"Does Ginny know about this?" Hermione asked, as clever and intuitive as usual. Harry rolled his eyes, cursing inwardly.

"No. I haven't told her yet," Harry admitted. However, he didn't feel bad about it at all. Hermione shook her head, noticing how unconcerned he was about the whole situation.

"You should have talked about it with her before buying a property, Harry. She's your wife. You don't take such big decisions without telling her." Ron nodded as well, following the thoughts of his wife. What kind of best friends did Harry have?

"Why is this such a big deal all of a sudden? She didn't ask me whether to join the Hollyhead Harpies. I just did what I thought was right, guys. I'll tell her." Harry added that last part to make them drop the subject, but Hermione wasn't easy to fob off.

"When?" Hermione asked. She looked at Harry, a stern look on her face.

"Don't know yet. I need some time," Harry admitted. "George helped out. He thinks it's a great idea," Harry added, looking up at his friend defensively.

"There's a lot of work to it, Harry. You can't just give up on your job at the Ministry," Hermione said, worry written all over her face.

"As a matter of fact, I can. I don't need the money, Hermione. I still have my fortune at Gringotts, plus all the money I've earned the past nine years – I hardly spent a knut of it. I can do this."

"Promise me you'll tell Ginny," Hermione begged, still ranting about Harry's wife. The raven-haired boy had to suppress a sigh and nodded his head reluctantly.

"I will. Either way, she's not gonna change my mind," Harry said decisively. "I still wanted to ask you a favor, Hermione. Do you know of any schooling to become a merchant? Malfoy told me that would be necessary." "I'll try to get some leaflets. I think the training of a merchant is three months, if I remember it correctly," Hermione replied, thoughtfully. She momentarily put down her bowl of soup and looked lost in her thoughts. "Yeah, three months. But I'll do some research for you," she added. She smiled at Harry and a soothing feeling washed over the raven-haired man.

"That sounds great! I knew you'd figure out what to do. Thanks for lunch, guys. I'm gonna head back to Grimmauld Place." Harry got up, a smile plastered on his face.

"Bye, mate," Ron said, his mouth full of a cheese sandwich. Hermione shook her head at her husband and smiled brightly at Harry. He waved his goodbyes at the kids as well, and left through the fireplace. Even though the outcome of their conversation was positive, Harry still mused about his wife. Why did Hermione want him to stick with Ginny so badly? Was it so wrong for him to want something new? Weren't his friends supposed to be on his side? His head spinning with unanswered questions, Harry went home, or rather, the place he called home.

LINEBREAK

Harry and Ginny were lying next to each other in the dark. The former Gryffindor was staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing. He couldn't get to sleep with the thoughts about the past few weeks running through his mind. He couldn't believe how his life had changed so much in so little time. In only three weeks, Harry was more certain about his future than he had been in years. The only problem right now was that Hermione didn't like the idea – or rather, the part where he hadn't told Ginny. Harry understood why Malfoy and his friends wanted him to tell her, but the longer Harry thought about it, the more he just wanted them to mind their own business. The more they tried to reconcile Ginny and Harry, the more he wanted to be alone, even though he didn't like being alone.

"You asleep?" Ginny murmured, shifting next to him. Harry quickly closed his eyes, ignoring the soft voice of his wife. "I know you're awake, Harry." Her reproachful voice made the hairs on Harry's neck rise and an uneasy feeling overtake his body.

"I'm trying to sleep," Harry replied in a whisper, his voice raw."I needed to tell you something," Harry started. He paused, waiting for Ginny to say something. When she didn't he continued: "I'm buying a property on Diagon Alley to open a coffee shop. George helped me doit. I'm thinking about quitting my job at the Ministry." The bomb had fallen, and now Harry was waiting for the rebound.

Ginny sat up. "Why haven't you talked to me about this? How long have you been considering that?" She sounded angry and Harry couldn't blame her. He'd have reacted the exact same way.

"Two weeks. I didn't want to tell you just yet. It's just, …" Harry paused, thinking about how he could explain himself, looking for the right words. He stared in the darkness, then finished his sentence. "Something I want to do alone." Ginny blinked at him in the twilight. Harry could see her eyes getting wet, and he sighed, falling back in his pillow.

"You're locking me out?" she asked, fear overpowering her voice. His wife sounded heartbroken, still there was nothing that could convince Harry to console the woman.

"No, Ginny. I'm not. I'm just trying to find something meaningful in my life. I need to do this by myself. Otherwise we'll never get along again. It was Malfoy's idea," Harry explained. He hoped that mentioning Malfoy would lessen her angriness, but the woman wasn't angry anymore. Sadness overpowered the bedroom when she responded.

"Am I holding you back or something?" she asked, her voice cracking up.

"No! Please Ginny, stop whimpering. It's got nothing to do with you."

"I'm your wife, Harry! Of course it has something to do with me!" Ginny snapped, raising her voice. Harry rolled his eyes, getting out of bed, feeling pissed. His temper was rising and his breathing became heavier.

"Stop trying to control me, Ginny. I may be your husband, but that doesn't mean I'm obliged to do _anything. _I still have freedom! Now I'm going to sleep on the couch. Don't follow me." Harry walked to the door. He nearly fell over the floor carpet, but managed to recompose himself, angrily trotting forward.

"I feel like I don't know you anymore, Harry," Ginny whispered, heartbroken. Harry felt a pinch in his stomach, her sorrow affecting his own emotions as well. He swiftly turned around, facing the teary woman. This very woman used to be a strong girl back in Hogwarts. Now, she'd become a ghost of the person she used to be.

"Sometimes I feel the same way about you," he replied, calmly, his voice no louder than a whisper. Then he left, leaving his wife behind in the cold bed.

Harry made his bed downstairs on the sofa, repositioning his cushion before sitting down. His thoughts were in a battle, thinking about Ginny. He had messed up yet again. Malfoy had told him to have sex with her again, but now he felt as if he wouldn't have a chance to do that. He didn't feel like doing it anyway, but somehow it felt like he had failed.

Malfoy had turned his life upside down. He unwillingly intruded Harry's mind The man was also gay. Homosexual. Harry didn't know why that tiny piece of information affected him so badly. He would've never guessed Malfoy fancied other guys. However, now that he knew, Harry kept thinking about the blonde, hooking up with men. Doing _stuff_ with those men. Harry shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about this, he needed to sleep. His mind wandered back to this morning. Harry hadn't forgotten the way the blonde had stared at his erection. Nor the burning feeling passing through his shoulder when the man had touched him there.

Harry was confused. Why did Malfoy have such a strange effect on him? What was so different about the guy? Harry had no clue, feeling lost in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Harry turned around in the sofa, already feeling his muscles getting sore. He'd have been better off remainingin bed with his wife. Then, Harry was reminded of the fact he was a wizard. He muttered to himself, feeling like a complete idiot before grabbing his wand and transforming the sofa into a comfortable bed. He lay back down again, a satisfied smile plastered on his face. He soon drifted off intoa deep sleep, dreaming about slender fingers, pointy features, blonde stands of hair and grey eyes, watching him mysteriously.

**To be continued..  
Review if you've got some time left **


	6. Chapter 6: Decisions

Chapter 6  
Decisions

_"Some things just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water. Orange juice and toothpaste. You and me."_

_-Jim Butcher -_

Harry found himself sitting on the white sofa in Malfoy's office. He didn't know how he had gotten there, but somehow it didn't matter. He observed the taller man before him. Malfoy had his legs crossed and hissilver eyes stared at him with curiosity. Harry just watched, not knowing what to say or do, confused by the stirring hot titillation in his stomach. Why was he here again?

"Potter. Your wife doesn't know how to fulfill your needs, does she?" Malfoy spoke in a deep, husky tone which gave Harry goosebumps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Harry retorted, a frown appearing in his forehead. The blonde stood up, stretching his long, slender legs and walkedaround the coffee table to sit down next to Harry. The presence of the former Death Eater made Harry's breath catch in his throat.. His cologne penetrated Harry's nose, the appealing scent of patchouli alerting all his senses.

"You do know what I'm talking about, Potter," Malfoy practically growled,, stressing the last word. The stirring sensation tugged on his belly button, and Harry became aroused for the second time in front of his therapist. He tried to scoot backwards to put more space between him and the blonde, but his body refused to move.

"Cut it out, Malfoy," Harry scolded, snapping out of his paralysis and shifting backwards. But Malfoy crossed the space again, halting just a few inches from Harry.. He was so close Harry could feel the warm breath on his lips. He parted his lips compliantly and a passion he didn't know washed over his body. Desire burned in his lungs and his breathing became irregular. The only thing he could think about was the man before him.

Malfoy leaned in, closing the last few inches, and linked his lips with Harry's. The soft pink lips felt like silk. Malfoy pressed gently against Harry, his slender hands caressing the raven-haired man's jaw. The latter wrapped his arms around the blonde, a deep growl escaping from the back of his throat. Harry buried his hands in the Slytherin's hair, surprised by the softness of the blond locks. Malfoy crawled on top of Harry, deepening the kiss. He slid his hands under Harry's shirt, hands finally touching skin. Harry moaned against Malfoy's touch, pulling the man closer. Malfoy's tongue slid past Harry's lips, asking for entrance. Harry opened submissively, wanting to taste the blonde above him desperately. Vanilla tickled his taste buds as Harry explored the hotness of Malfoy's mouth.

Malfoy continued to kiss Harry, positioning himself between the former Gryffindor's legs. Harry arched his back, trying to get closer to the man. He could feel his erection gently pressing against Malfoy's masculinity. He tugged on Malfoy's blouse, fumbling with the buttons as the blonde massaged his legs. His jeans felt too tight under Malfoy's warm hands. Finally, the blouse came off, revealing a porcelain torso. Harry caressed Malfoy, touching his nipples lightly. Malfoy moaned against Harry's touch, turning on the raven-haired man even more. Malfoy ripped off Harry's shirt, pulling him closer by his thighs. He caressed Harry's tan belly, before lowering his hands to his abdomen. The blonde played with the black pubic hair, softly pulling at it, a mischievous grin on his face.

Then his hand slid lower, one finger following the crease of Harry's erection. Harry moaned in reply, leaning into the touch. "Harry!" Harry opened his eyes frowning at Malfoy. Why was he calling him by his first name? The room blurred a little and the voice called out again.

"Harry! Wake up," a woman's voice said. Harry opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented. He was lying in the living room of Grimmauld place. The memories gradually trickled back inside his brain and all the pieces of the puzzle fell together at once.

"I'm awake," Harry grunted, turning over and trying to cover his pulsing erection. He could feel the blush heating up his face.

"Good. You were moaning. I thought your nightmares were over," Ginny walked away from him to the kitchen table. Harry heaved a sigh of relief as his wife walked away, the hotness in his pants still making him feel uncomfortable. She didn't seem very angry about last night anymore, which was great.

"I still have one from time to time," Harry lied, knowing very well he hadn't been having a nightmare at all. His pulse was slowing down as he fully woke. "I'm going to freshen up," he added, getting up. Ginny was making a cup of tea and just nodded. Harry transformed the couch to its normal proportions again, heading upstairs to the bathroom.

_Malfoy. _

He had been dreaming about Malfoy. A wave of pleasure rushed through Harry's veins, and he shook it off quickly. The fact that Malfoy was gay must've confused Harry, making him dream about something like that. Still, Harry felt more embarrassed than ever. The fact that he had enjoyed the dream at all bothered him to no end. Harry turned on the shower, waiting until the water was hot before stepping under it. The hot jet of water massaged his shoulders and reminded Harry too much of his arousal, forcing him to quickly turn the water off.

_Damn Malfoy. _What was happening to him? Why was he feeling turned on by a man? He quickly dried off, tugged on his clothes and headed downstairs to his wife. She was precisely the buzzkill he needed right now.

* * *

Draco was waiting for Potter to arrive. It was their fourth session already and Draco had never imagined the man would actually return and keep talking to him. However, luck seemed to be on his side. He enjoyed having talks with the former Gryffindor. Draco smiled inwardly, replaying the past three conversations in his head.

The first time Potter walked in his office, or rather, the first time Draco had seen the man in his waiting room, Draco had almost lost it. Of course, he had known the Weaslette had made an appointment, but nevertheless, it had been ages since he'd last seen the man. To be honest, Draco had thought the Boy Who Lived had the life of his dreams. But it wasn't like that. Potter's whole being radiated unhappiness. The Weaslette had probably ran him dry. The bright green light in his eyes had dimmed, and even though the Survivor had worn nice clothes, it didn't cover up his listlessness. Draco could see he was having a hard time. Anyway, it was a lovely tuxedo.

Draco laughed out loud at the memory, thesmall burst of laughter filling the empty room. Draco shook his head, still not quite understanding why Potter returned and why he was constantly looking forward to it. Last week, the Chosen One had asked about Draco's life. When Draco replied that he was gay, he'd expected Potter to observe him with disgust. Instead, the man's expression had been surprised, curious even. There was also a hint of confusion present, a feeling Draco had seen in Potter's eyes a few times already. For example, when their fingers had touched. Or when Draco had placed his hand on Potter's shoulder. His shoulder had felt warm and strong under Draco's hand. He didn't want to let go of the man, and maybe that was the reason Potter had looked up at him in confusion. Maybe his friendly touch had lasted a fraction too long.

Draco flipped the pages of his notebook, rereading the things Potter had told him, still waiting for his former arch enemy to arrive. The thing that had surprised him the most until now was that Ginny was a poor lover. Okay, he'd expected the Weaslette to be a lousy bedpartner, but he'd never expected Potter to talk about his sexlife so openly. It had to be taken with a grain of salt because Potter had stuttered his way through. Nevertheless, Draco had seen how the raven-haired man's body slowly became aroused instead of embarrassed. The memory still sent hot shivers down his spine that combated with the knot in his stomach which formed at the thought of his own boyfriend. A short knock pulled Draco out of his reverie.

"Come in," he replied. The door swung open, and a well-dressed Potter stepped in. His attire was something Draco had noticed instantly in their first meeting. Potter's taste in clothing had improved over the years, and it was hard not to stare at his torso covered in a tight green fabric. The man took a seat in front of Draco, crossing his arms as usual.

"Good morning, Potter. So tell me, how are things between you and Mrs. Potter?" Draco questioned in a friendly tone. Draco knew there was no passion in their marriage anymore. The Weaslette tried to hold on to what they had, but it was clear to Draco that Potter didn't feel the same way. Everything the woman did irritated him. Draco wasn't blind, the Weaslette wasn't blind either, but Draco figured she just didn't want to lose him. However, she already had.

Draco shook his head, not understanding how she could drain out such a vivid man. If Draco would have had the chance to worship the Boy Who Lived, he would have never let him go. Draco blinked at his notepad, trying to stop his mind from wandering off and looked up at Potter.

"- just so annoying," the emerald-eyed man finished his sentence. Draco cursed himself inwardly for not listening to his patient and said, "What exactly annoys you? Are there specific things that you really can't stand?" Draco hoped the man didn't notice he hadn't heard anything he'd said so far, but Potter just continued, as if nothing had happened.

"I told her about the coffee shop last Saturday. And she totally freaked out, saying I lock her out and stuff like that. She just doesn't understand I need some time for myself. I need to sort things out," Potter continued, his voice raw with irritation. Draco observed the man, feeling sorry for him because he had such an annoying wife. The blonde had never liked the Weaslette, not even back at Hogwarts. She always acted so bossy and tried to control everyone.

"So, what you're saying is, you want to split up for a while, to see whether you still belong together," Draco recapitulated. Potter looked up, a begging look in his leafgreen eyes. It was nearly impossible to stay put and not jump over the coffee table when all he wanted to do was kiss the man senselessly to show him there was a lot more to discover in this world than Ginny Weasley. But Draco stayed glued to his seat, trying to be as professional as he could.

"Yeah. But I'm not sure if that's the right thing to do. What do you think?" he asked. Happy for being invited to share his opinion, Draco put down the notepad, sitting up a bit straighter and meeting the man's eyes. Potter was heading in the right direction. Leaving the Weaslette would be the smartest thing the Survivor had done in his entire life, including outsmarting the Dark Lord numerous of times.

"I feel like it would help you clear your mind. You need to detach yourself from everyone that wants to influence you. It has to be your decision. And it could take some time before you've got everything sorted out," Draco replied. Potter nodded, shifting in the sofa and looking around the room.

"What did you say to Ginny?" Potter questioned. Draco could see the man hadn't shaved well. There was still some stubble present. Potter ran a hand through his messy hair, making it all the more sloppy in the process. It was hard not to drool, but Draco kept his mask on. When it came to Potter, he had always worn his mask. There were too many emotions that the green-eyed man wasn't allowed to see.

"I can't tell you that, Potter. Mrs. Potter seems very determined to save your marriage. I can tell she loves you Potter, or at least tries. The question is whether you still love her. You have to find that out. You can't keep on doing things just to please others." At those words, Potter's mood instantly changed.

"I didn't marry her to please only _her_, Malfoy," Potter snapped, putting up his guard again. Draco was usually very fond of Potter's bad temper, however, an eruption wasn't very welcome at this time.

"I didn't say that. I'm only saying that I've never seen real passion between you two. I wonder whether you know what it's really like to actually _love _someone. With all your heart." Draco should have known Potter wouldn't like that.

"Pardon me?! I _do _know how it feels to love someone, Malfoy! I loved this girl during Hogwarts. Our marriage has just changed us both," Potter yelled defensively. He jumped up from the sofa, his anger sparking off him in waves. His green eyes resembled the killing curse that had made him famous.

"You loved her like a teenage boy loves his first girlfriend, Potter. There's a big difference with true love," Draco said, calmly, eyeing Potter cautiously. He knew another outburst was coming. He also knew he shouldn't have taken the conversation this far. Draco prepared for the attack, watching how Potter took a mouthful of air before breaking loose.

"Like _you _know what true love is, Malfoy! You're just talking rubbish!" Potter snorted. He came closer to the blond, a threatening look in his eyes. "How do I know you're not trying to tear me and Ginny apart?" The distrust cut like a knife. Draco averted his eyes for a second, composing himself before meeting the furious man's eyes again.

"Potter. Please calm down. Do you hear yourself? I'm trying to make your marriage work again. I can deduce from all the conversations we have had so far that you don't feel attracted to your wife anymore. That's not something I made up, Potter," Draco said, raising his voice just a little. It was hard to keep his cool and not tell the man off. Potter was his patient after all. His words seemed to calm down the raven-haired man.

"It's not like I'm committing a bloody crime by saying that, am I? I'm just trying to figure out how to feel about the woman I married. You're not married, Malfoy, how could you possibly know?" Draco hadn't missed the accusing tone in Potter's voice, but he tried to keep it professional. Nevertheless, he was unable to contain his own anger, and it quickly slipped into his response.

"I did have an education, Potter. Thank you very much," Draco replied, his cheeks coloring with annoyance. "Let's get back to the cause of the matter. You want to take a break from living with Mrs. Weasley, is that right?"

"Yeah," Potter muttered, an unpleased look and deep frown still present on his face.

"Good. You're still planning on opening that coffee shop of yours, I suppose?"

"Yeah," Potter nodded again, trying not to roll his eyes. Nevertheless, Draco could see the irritation on his face. The man sat back down on the couch with a loud plop.

"Good. Try talking to Mrs. Potter about moving out. After informing her about your intentions, you could either live with a friend or live in the coffee shop. It's up to you. After that, you'll inform me about the differences you experience when living alone, as compared to sharing the house with your wife." Draco took some notes while still eyeing the man dressed in green. "If you both are ready to deal with each other again, you can move in with one another. How does that sound?"

"You can't save my marriage, can you Malfoy?" Potter asked. There was no sign of anger in the Survivor's voice, and he looked at Draco pleadingly.

"No. I can't," Draco admitted, " But I can try to open both your and your wife's eyes to whether your marriage is working or not and help you along the way as you decide whether to stay together or go on separate paths.". Potter nodded, the tension trickling away from their conversation. Draco looked at the clock and stood up, Potter doing the same instantly.

"I'll see you next week?" Draco asked, guiding Potter to the door.

"We'll see," Potter replied with a deep voice. The sound of it sent a hot wave through Draco's body, and he slightly brushed Potter's arm before they reached the door. Potter looked at him alarmed, freezing in his tracks. The former Seeker quickly composed himself and stepped through the door, without looking back. Draco returned to the couch, sitting down on Potter's spot. It still smelled like him, his earthy aroma hanging in the air. Draco could distinguish cinnamon and lime covered in the earthy fragrance of Potter himself. Draco closed his eyes, sinking into the moment, and Potter's sense..

Draco had seen how Potter had momentarily flinched at his touch, which meant he didn't think of the touch as just a random casual gesture. Draco shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking that way. He had a boyfriend at home, who would kill Harry without any warning if he could read Draco's mind. But no matter how he tried, it was impossible to put the Boy Who Lived And Grew To Be A Handsome Young Man out of his mind. The Gryffindor had always had an indescribable effect on the blonde. The smell of Potter's skin made it all the more difficult for him to focus, and Draco got up, frustrated. He marched to the window, trying to stop his mind from going there.

However, it was useless. Draco remembered how Potter had walked up to this very window the first time they'd been alone in this room. Potter had completely lost his cool, as he did every time he marched inside this chamber. Draco found the bad temper very alluring, a sappy smile crossing his face. Draco turned around again, grabbing his bag and heading home as well, preparing to face his boyfriend Terence Higgs.

* * *

Upon exiting the fireplace of George's and Angelina's house, Harry entered a cozy living room. A large sofa occupied the better half of the room, the soft blue color adding to the cream walls. The dining table was made of white oak, positioned next to a large window, outside of which could be seen a magically clear blue sky. Yet again, Harry was astounded by the beautiful things magic could do, and it was as if he was eleven all over again. The summer sky was a lot better than the cloudy weather outside, improving Harry's mood lightly.

"George?" he called out, hoping the man would be home. It was Sunday, so the shop was closed. Then again, George could have had other plans for his Sunday afternoon.

"Harry, please come through," Angelina Johnson responded, popping her head around the corner of the kitchen. Harry entered a spacious kitchen, which at the moment was occupied by various baking tools. It looked as if Angelina was preparing a cake – or several cakes, looking at the amount of ingredients scattered around the kitchen.

"It's Fred's birthday," the dark-haired woman said, stirring a bowl of dough and cutting up fruits at the same time. For a moment, Harry was confused, fearing he'd forgotten Fred and George's birthday, but a fraction of a second later, Harry realized she was talking about her son.

"How old is he now?" Harry asked, sitting down on the small kitchen table.

"Seven," Angelina replied, glowing with pride. Harry saw the large grandfather clock, similar to Mrs. Weasley's standing in the corner. At the moment, three arrows labeled 'George', 'Roxanne' and 'Fred'were pointed at _Out_ And Angelina's arrow pointed at _Home. _

"Are they out buying presents?" Harry asked, realizing he hadn't bought anything for the young Weasley.

"No, no. I sent them out to the zoo all morning so I could prepare the cake in peace." She smiled sheepishly, hurrying to the oven. She took out a deliciously smelling chocolate pie and placed it on the counter. Then she walked back to the dough, finishing it off before placing it in the oven as well.

"I'll be honest, I forgot it was Fred Junior's birthday today. I really don't want to show up without a present." Harry looked around the room helplessly, feeling like he'd put himself in an unwanted and awkward position.

"Don't worry about it. The family party isn't until next week. You can give him his present then," Angeline replied, waving with her wand-hand while concentrating on adding cream puffs to what looked like an apple-pie.

"I can't show up here with no present, now can I? I just came to talk to George to be honest." Angelina just shrugged.

"Oh, they won't arrive for another half hour. You can join us if you like. I have enough cake to feed all the visitors of Diagon Alley. If you insist, you can go ahead and fetch yourself a present. If they arrive early, I won't tell them you've been here, alright?" Angelina offered him a large smile, decorating her chocolate pie with strawberries, apple and kiwi.

"Thanks," Harry replied gratefully, exiting through the back door, which gave access to Diagon Alley. Harry smiled, happy to be part of something without Ginny correcting him or trying to attract his attention. When he returned with a large gift-wrapped box, he saw the others had a arrived and wondered if he was intruding. Harry was about to just turn around when Angelina called to him. "Come on in!"

Harry stepped forward, entering the kitchen cautiously. Two buoyant children and their parents were sitting around the small table, overloaded with birthday cake. There was a large chocolate pie covered with delicious fruits, a strawberry pie with whipped cream on top, a vanilla cake with added chocolate flakes and a frangipane with white frosting letters that changed from: "Happy birthday Fred Jr!" To "Seven years already!".

"Hi," Harry greeted, waving his hand reticently. George immediately got up to conjure him a chair, and both kids ran up to him in surprise.

"Uncle Harry! Did you buy me a present as well?" Fred Junior beamed expectantly. "Yes, I did," Harry chuckled. "But you can't open it just yet. Your mommy will tell you when." Then, Harry turned to George, mouthing: "I need to talk to you." George nodded shortly, standing up again.

"Harry and I are going to get Mommy and Daddy's present to put them next to Harry's, is that okay?" An approving cheer filled the room, and both men made their way upstairs. Harry was glad George had found such a good reason to excuse themselves, as his tongue was itching to tell the twin brother the news.

"I've decided to live alone for a while," Harry said, as soon as they were outside hearing distance. "I want to see what happens if we put our relationship on hold for a little while." They walked down the hallway, heading for the staircase. George nodded thoughtfully before answering.

"Did Malfoy agree with that?"

"Yeah, he thought it was a great idea. I've been thinking about it a lot. Maybe I'll realize what I'm losing if I don't see Ginny. I don't know, I think it's worth a try." Both men mounted the stairs, arriving on the landing. Harry had never been there before. The walls had the same cream color as downstairs, and the floor was covered with parquet.

"I don't think Ginny will easily accept your proposition, Harry," George said, a frown appearing in his forehead. George led him to one of the bedrooms, grabbing one of the two presents and gesturing for Harry to carry the other. "Does she know yet?"

"No. I'll tell her soon. But I want to wait for a little longer. I did tell her about the coffee shop though. She didn't take it well." Harry pulled a face when he spoke, vividly remembering Ginny's whimpering reaction.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Women are like that when you withhold information from them. Even in a perfect marriage there could be a small dispute about that," George smiled. Harry wondered whether he was referring to Angelina. However, he didn't want to be rude and changed the subject.

"I went by Gringotts and they told me the money was transferred. The house is officially mine now. I made an appointment with Mr. Poppet on Monday. Do you know some people that can renovate the house?"

"I already contacted them. Maybe you could make an appointment with them on Monday as well. They could start as early as Tuesday if you'd like. It won't take long; they're fast workers." A friendly smile spread across George's face.

"Good. How long are we talking about? Two months? Three?" Harry questioned, trying to remember how long it takes to make a house habitable.

"No, no. Just a few weeks. They're wizards, Harry, don't forget that. It doesn't take as long as it would in the Muggle world," George explained, amusedly. Harry's eyes widened in realization, mentally shunning himself for overseeing that little fact.

"Right. That sounds great," he replied sheepishly. A worried glance crossed George's face.

"Ginny's not happy either, Harry," he spoke, his voice very serious all of a sudden. Harry was surprised by the sudden change of subject, feeling like George was trying to accuse Harry of excluding Ginny from the coffee shop. "She tries to convince herself that she is, but she's not. She's my sister. I haven't seen her genuinely happy in quite some time." George's words stung. Harry hadn't been able to make his sister happy. Harry felt quite badly about it. As if George could read his thoughts, he quickly added, "It's not your fault, Harry. Some things just aren't meant to be, you know." Harry nodded, grabbing the second present at last and exiting the room with George at his heels.

"Maybe you're right," he added, marching down the stairs with the ginger-haired man bouncing behind him. They entered the kitchen again and were welcomed with loud cheers from the two kids. Angelina couldn't wipe the smile of her face, and eyed her two children fondly. George handed the large gift to his son, who accepted it eagerly.

"What's in it Daddy?" the seven-year-old asked.

"Open it up, then you'll see. But you'd better start with Harry's present. He came here especially for you." The boy's smile widened, and ripped off the wrapping papaer in a matter of seconds, revealing a rectangular album. The pages were tinted soft orange. Fred Junior flipped through the pages, disappointment appearing on his face.

"It's empty," he whined, gloomily. He checked the box again andhis smile reappeared as he got out a smaller box. He opened it, prudently holding a solid black camera in his hand. "It's a camera!" he exclaimed, turning over the device to look at it from different angles.

"It is a camera, accompanied by a photo album. This way, you can make memories of your family. You should be proud of them, they're wonderful." Harry smiled and showed the boy how his present worked. Fred Junior held the album tightly to his chest and looked from Harry to his mother and father.

"May I take some pictures too?" Roxanne asked, a jealous look in her eyes. Harry smiled brightly, tapping her on the back lightly.

"What do you say if I take a picture of the four of you together?" Harry proposed. The children cheered joyfully. Their happiness was contagious, and soon there was a big goofy grin plastered on Harry's face. Harry and Ginny had never been this happy or joyful, especially not about something so simple and silly. He recalled what George had said only a few minutes ago and the words fluttered in and out of his head a few times.

Maybe George was right. He and Ginny weren't meant to be.

**To be continued…**

**Please review…**


	7. Chapter 7: Confessions

**So… First things first. ActorPotter did an amazing job on betaing the story so far, but she's unable to continue her fabulous work. It was very heartbreaking to hear, and right now I'm stranded without a beta. If anyone feels like being a part of it, feel free to write me a PM. I'm really desperate. **

**As a result of that, this chapter hasn't been betaed, so please be kind, and don't hate me for making some spelling errors. English is – after all – my second language. **

**Now, I'm going to quit my rant and leave you to the story! Chapter 7 already! Enjoy. ^_^**

****Update: found my beta! Thank you Darkskyslove!****

Chapter 7  
Confessions

_"One of the worst feelings in life is holding onto something you know you need to let go of."_

"_Doing the right thing hurt, but makes you smile in the long run."_

_-Anonymous-_

Harry closed the door of his new home on Diagon Alley behind him, a pleased grin plastered on his face. The renovations were finished, and it was only Friday. Harry was able to live above the store now, and soon he would be able to start renovations downstairs. He was happy with George's help, because he had no idea there were specialists in renovating a home with magic. In only four full days, five workers had rebuilt the bathroom, bedroom and an open kitchen with living room. Harry was happy with the result, and prepared to inform Ginny about his resolutions.

The fireplace of the new home hadn't been registered yet, thus he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron to head home from there on. Well, he probably wouldn't be home for long, given that the news wouldn't be well received. Nevertheless, the happy feeling of finally having achieved something in his life couldn't be tamed. He nodded to Tom and joyfully greeted the clients before making his way to the fireplace. The moment of truth had arrived. Harry entered Grimmauld Place, observing the house that he'd called home for nine years. Harry couldn't say he was sad. He was happy to leave the gloomy house, and that was an understatement.

"Ginny?" Harry called, entering an empty living room.

"Yes!" Ginny replied from the kitchen. Harry gave himself a curt nod, glad that his wife was home and prepared for his announcement. Postponing the news would only make things worse, and Harry's nerves would kill him if he didn't spill it as quick as possible. Now that he had convinced himself that telling her was the right thing to do, he needed it off his chest desperately. He entered the kitchen.

"Hi, Harry. Why are you calling out?" Ginny asked, an eyebrow rose in question. Harry sat down at their hard wooden kitchen table, eying how Ginny prepared dinner. Only a month ago, he had been sitting at this exact same wooden table while this ginger-haired woman was preparing breakfast. Harry couldn't believe how much had changed since then. He certainly didn't want to go back there, so, yet again, he convinced himself he was doing the right thing.

"I've been talking to Malfoy," Harry started. Ginny chuckled.

"I know, Harry." It was funny how his wife always saw the bright side of things. That was something he admired about Ginny. She always kept her head high, no matter how hard the burden she was carrying on her shoulders. However, irritation took the better part of him.

"Please, could you let me finish?" Harry continued, getting annoyed by the woman's superior behavior already. She had no idea what was coming. "And he told me to pursue some goals in my life. I found something I seriously want to do, and I've already decided I will."

"Is it about the coffee shop thing?" Ginny noted, leaving the chicken breasts for what they were and turning around to meet Harry's eyes. Harry looked into her blue orbs, forcing himself to open his mouth and reply. He hesitated for a couple of seconds, then cut the Gordian knot.

"Yes. I quit my job today," Harry confessed. One down, only two more to go.

"Waaw," Ginny replied flabbergasted. "I thought you didn't want to quit your job?" In Harry's opinion, the woman took it well until now.

"I didn't want to quit it for anyone else, but me," Harry corrected, trying to point the small difference out to his frowning wife. Ginny's gaze went fuzzy, not quite understanding what Harry was telling her. Harry sighed in frustration, standing up from his chair. He took a deep breath before he continued.

"I quit my job to start the coffee shop thing. George and I found a property and I bought it. The renovations upstairs are finished, so I can live there now." It took some time for Ginny to take his words in before she slowly spoke.

"We're moving to Diagon Alley?" Ginny half stated, half questioned. Harry shook his head.

"No. I'm moving to Diagon Alley. Malfoy told me it would be a good idea if we take some distance. I want to move there for a while to find out what it is I really want." Harry paused, wanting to hear how badly Ginny's reaction would be. She reacted as Harry had suspected. Heartbroken.

"You're leaving me?!" Ginny cracked, her eyes filling with tears. She grabbed the counter to support her as her body tried to withstand the shock. Harry felt a mixture of guilt, pity and irritation, the last feeling never dissolving. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the important thing of the matter, and trying to ignore the whimpering sounds Ginny was making.

"No. We're taking a break. It would be easier for me to make up my mind to how I really feel about you. Right now, I'm just confused. And I hope by missing you, I'll realize what I've been doing to both of us." Ginny calmed down a little, a frown appearing in her forehead which made her red eyebrows form a ribbed line.

"I don't understand. Do you not love me anymore, Harry? I've been trying to mend our marriage, and you just want to throw it all away?" As she started to realize Harry was actually leaving her, tears streamed down Ginny's face, her lip trembling while she spoke.

"Did you even listen? We're just taking a _break!_" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with frustration. How could he possible explain how he felt after all this time? He'd kept it a secret for too long, and now it all was too difficult to comprehend. Harry turned around, his back facing the crying woman.

"Harry. Please don't do this to us. What will happen to me when you're gone?" Ginny's desperate voice softened Harry's temper. His shoulders sank, a pinch of reproach making his muscles cramp. The raven-haired young man turned around, stepped forward, in front of his wife and took her shoulders in his hands.

"It won't be for long, Ginny. You'll be just fine. You can take care of yourself. You're a grown woman. It will give us both some time to think. You can either stay here or go live with your mom for a while." His voice was soothing, trying to calm down the redhead.

"I'm not living with my mother, Harry. She'll be devastated if she finds out we're not together anymore," Ginny sobbed, trying to hold back her tears but failing miserably. She tried to remain her proud self, and the longer Harry stood there, the guiltier he felt for the decisions he'd made. Still, this was something that needed to be done, so he continued.

"That's exactly the reason why I want to take some time off. Everyone keeps telling us what to do! I'm going to pack my stuff now, Ginny," Harry sighed, heading up the stairs.

"Harry, please. Don't do this to us. Don't do this to me." She pulled his sleeve, trying to make him stop from reaching the stairs, but Harry pushed her away softly, but firm. "I'm not doing anything to you, Ginny. I'm doing you a favor. When we get back together, I'll by myself again. Believe me, it's for the best." Harry reached their bedroom, Ginny still following him around like a headless chicken. As soon as he reached it, he opened the closet with a swing of his wand and started summoning clothes and personal belongings. Ginny watched him packing, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Don't expect me to take you back afterwards, Harry," she threatened, pointing her finger accusingly. "If you leave now, don't come back ever again," she said. Her hands were shaking with a mixture of fear, grief and rage, but Harry knew she was just desperately holding on to the ends of the rope. He closed his trunk, magically enlarged to contain all his stuff and used the _locomotor_ spell to get it downstairs.

"Don't make that kind of conclusions just yet. If we don't get back together, we still have a divorce to take care of and the house to split. But I don't want to talk about that right now. Malfoy will help you through this, Ginny. Take care." With these words, Harry left the Grimmauld Place. A large knot formed in his stomach. The better part of him wanted to run back to the woman he had left behind, apologize to her and promise that everything would be okay. Then again, a tiny voice in his head told him this was for the better.

So he went to his new home, unpacked his bags and headed for the Leaky Cauldron. He had deserved a drink after this. He figured he still would have to tell Ron and Hermione, but right now wasn't the time to do that. Ginny had probably informed Hermione about the entire situation, and Harry couldn't handle to blow off another friend. He wouldn't be able to handle the pressure, because he felt absolutely drained after his short conversation with Ginny.

He took a sip from his Firewhisky, the liquid left behind a hot trail. It warmed up his insides, but still he felt cold. Alcohol wouldn't help him get rid of the eerie feeling circulating through his body. He wanted to say that he was sorry, he wanted to assure his friends that his marriage would be okay in the end, but he couldn't. Frankly, Harry didn't even know himself if things would be alright. So he just kept sitting there, sipping his Firewhisky, a numb feeling taking him over. He ignored the other clients, he only vaguely replied to the greetings he got from other wizards, and stared into nothingness.

Harry hadn't expected things to go this way. He'd expected the talk with Ginny to be far more difficult and the time after to be way easier. It was the reverse. Telling Ginny to let go had been easy, convincing himself he'd done the right thing was a lot more difficult. Back in Grimmauld Place, he'd acted certain, to convince Ginny he was self-assured, while in reality, he had no idea what he was doing half of the time. By leaving Ginny, he'd left his only two friends, and the only family he'd had in his entire life.

He was all alone.

Okay, okay. He wasn't alone. He still had George. And Malfoy – in some way. However, it still felt like he'd failed. He'd let his wife down, he had not been a loyal husband. The amount of Firewhisky accumulated in proportion to the time passing. Finally, Tom advised Harry to go home, and the Boy Who Lived got up, stumbling his way through the leaky Cauldron and into the tiny backyard. He looked upon the wall, blinking stupidly as if trying to remember how to get it to open.

"Drunk, are we?" A male voice said from behind him. Harry turned around, his body still trying to take in the amount of alcohol, which was now reacting with the oxygen out of the mid night air. His head felt like a tornado, making him dizzy just standing upright. Harry saw a blonde head and a pair of grey eyes.

"Malfoy?" He jabbered. "I need to get home." Malfoy eyed him curiously, a mischievous grin on his face. Harry didn't see that though, his drunkenness making him oversee lots of vital things.

"I figured. You won't make it that far on your own, will you?" Malfoy's voice was filled with amusement, but Harry was as drunk as he could get, and obvious to the blonde's humor.

"You only need to o-open this wall. Then I'll find my way, Ma-Malfoy," Harry hiccupped, pointed to the brick wall with his index finger. Malfoy stepped closer, tapped three bricks up and two across from the dustbin, and a large archway was revealed. Harry's green eyes opened in surprise: "There you have it!" He exclaimed happily, tripping forward, nearly falling with his head forward.

"Let me help you," Malfoy suggested, grabbing Harry's arm just in time before the drunk lost his balance again. Harry frowned, looking at the hand that had grabbed his arm in surprise.

"No, no, no no," Harry murmured. "I'm fine, really." He continued stumbling through the deserted Diagon Alley, before his feet were lifted off the ground. He looked up and saw Malfoy's face only a few inches away from his. A pleasurable feeling settled in his stomach as Malfoy carried him across Diagon Alley. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck, eyeing his pointy features.

"I've never seen you from this close, Malfoy," Harry whispered, doing his best to keep his eyes open. They kept falling shut, and Malfoy merely laughed.

"You're really wasted, Potter." The words had just left the blonde's mouth when Harry's head fell down on his shoulder. The Survivor was soundly asleep, hanging unconscious in the former Slytherin's arms.

LINEBREAK

Saturday morning, Harry woke up with an enormous hangover. His head was pounding like hell, and he reluctantly got out of bed. Normally, he would stop and see Hermione to fetch a potion to cure his hangover, but right now he couldn't. There would be too much explaining to do, and Harry figured he would have to attend his appointment with Malfoy bearing the current migraine.

Harry thought about the night before. He had too much to drink. Tom had put him on his way, but then there was a blur in his memory. He remembered passing out, but he couldn't remember getting home and crawling in bed. Harry shrugged, not paying too much attention to it. He took a hot shower, trying to cure his headache and then jumped into his pants. He put on a dark grey blouse as well, making sure the buttons were done right.

When he got downstairs, he quickly served himself a glass of water, with added sugar, knowing that would help him on his way with his hangover. Then he headed off to Malfoy's place. Malfoy was already waiting for him when Harry arrived. He rushed inside, plopping down on the comfortable couch with a sigh.

"Potter. Had a rough night?" Malfoy questioned. His eyebrow rose, disappearing in the blonde pony that covered the half of his forehead.

"You could say that," Harry replied, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the headache from blurring his vision. He was still catching his breath from rushing to the office.

"So I guess you spread the news?" Malfoy seemed unusually happy about the whole situation, while Harry observed the man with a grumpy look on his face. Spread the news? How could Malfoy possible know what had happened?

"How is it you're so informed about all this?" Harry grunted, supporting his head with a hand. Malfoy's grin widened, an indefinable look in his grey orbs.

"Do we have a black out?" Was all the blonde said, getting up from the couch. He walked around it, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Stop being a prick, Malfoy. I'm here to tell you what happened with Ginny, so stop mocking me for my hangover." Harry stared at his therapist in a bad mood, the thumping in his head only making it worse.

"Okay, okay. Tell me all about it. In the meanwhile, I have a special potion here that you might like." Malfoy rumbled in the briefcase he'd brought with him and got out a flask with an orange fluid.

"The renovations in the coffee shop were finished yesterday, so I was able to move in there. I decided to tell Ginny the news right away. She didn't take it well, though. She asked me to stay and made me doubt my decision," Harry confessed. Malfoy looked up at the raven-haired man.

"Doubt? You consider going back to your wife already?" There was a hint of surprise in his voice, mingled with disbelief. Harry frowned, feeling stupid now Malfoy put it like that.

"Yeah, I don't know. They're everything I've got. I'm sure Ginny already went to Hermione to spill the news. I didn't feel like going, so now they'll all be pissed and hate me for not trying. Especially Ron."

"Whatever they do, they'll come round, Potter. It's your life, you have to live it, not them." His tone was so firm that it sounded like a fact. The blonde held out the vial of potion to him, and Harry accepted it with a curt nod.

"You're probably right, Malfoy. Still, it feels like I've given up on them. It feels as if I've made another mistake, another failure to add to my list." He emptied the flask, swallowing the thick substance and pulling a face. He hated these potions. Immediately, the cloudy feeling in his head cleared up, and the continuous hammering in his temple slowly faded away.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Potter. You still have George, right? He doesn't try to influence you, does he?" Harry looked up at the blonde, surprised that he'd remembered how he and George were getting on lately. He'd forgotten about the redhead yesterday, thinking he was all alone.

"No, he doesn't. Then again, he's not my best friend. Ron's the one who should understand."

"You could go talk to him. If you do that, he won't have anything to hold against you afterwards. The most important thing is to take one step at a time, Potter. Don't rush anything. Get used to the decision you've made, live by yourself-" That reminded Harry of something else he'd done the day before.

"I also gave up my job at the Ministry," he added, interrupting his current therapist slash former arch enemy.

"Really? Well, how long will it take until you can open your coffee shop?"

"I don't know yet. They need to start the renovations down there and I still need my license. I already asked Hermione to look out for a schooling to become a merchant," Harry replied, a thoughtful frown rippling his forehead.

"Wouldn't it have been better if you waited until the renovations were finished? That will cost you quite some Galleons," Malfoy questioned, sitting down on the opposite side of the coffee table again. Harry was momentarily paralyzed when the memory of his dream entered his brain. For a moment, he'd expected Malfoy to take a seat next to _him, _like he'd done in his dream. Harry tried to shake of his confusion and focused on replying to the question. What was it about again? Oh, money.

"No, money is no problem. I've got enough. Besides, there's still a two weeks' notice, so I hope by then the renovations will be complete." So, in two weeks he could sign up for his classes, and three months later he would be an official merchant and owner of the only coffee shop in Diagon Alley. Harry's chest swelled with pride, a smug smile crossing his face. Malfoy interrupted his personal moment, obvious to the man's happiness.

"Good. Now, what I want you to do this week, beside all the work you have so far, is jot down the differences between being with Ginny and being alone. What do you like better, what isn't good at all. Do you miss Ginny? Do you think about her more often, or rather the opposite, does she never cross your mind? Do you feel lonely? Do you feel more vibrant? Do you visit friends more often? In short, write down all about how you experience being 'single' again, and show it next week." Harry listened to the man's explanation, a tired look crossing his face. Nevertheless, he didn't refuse, nodding his head as he replied.

"Okay. I'll do that. Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said getting up. "I never thought you'd be this professional, and actually help me out because of who I am and our past. Nevertheless, you did. Thank you for that." Harry offered the man a warm smile, meaning what he'd said just now.

"You're welcome, Potter. You have done your part in this as well. If you'd remained distant, we wouldn't have gotten this far." There was a glint in Malfoy's orbs that caught Harry's eye. The crooked smile the blonde offered him gave him hot chills, and he quickly rotated. Harry sauntered to the door, then turned around one last time.

"You didn't tell me how you figured out I was hung over," Harry noted, looking at the man pervasively. Malfoy's face lit up.

"I brought you home," the blonde replied. He only briefly looked up from his briefcase. Harry gaped at the blonde, who continued putting away his notes imperturbably. Harry caught himself staring and left Malfoy's office, wondering about what he had to think about the fact that Malfoy brought him home.

* * *

"Hey stupid! How come you were at work today?!" A furious Ronald Weasley came bursting in Harry's new home, not even taking the time to close the front door behind him.

"Hi, Ron. What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd quit? You're not supposed to be there anymore, are you?" Ron's blue orbs eyed him accusingly, a reproachful tone reining his voice.

"I did. But I've got two week's notice, Ron. Everyone has that," Harry explained. Harry was cleaning up after the workers, who had just finished their shift and had gone home.

"You could have told me, Harry. That's what friends are for," Ron looked around the room, his eyes following the renovations. Harry continued sweeping the floor, using a Muggle method out of habit.

"I've been busy," Harry started, trying to apologize, but he was rudely interrupting by his raging friend.

"Yeah, I noticed. I went by your home to ask you the thing I'm asking you right now. I couldn't find you. The only person I could find was a teary Ginny. You hurt her, Harry. That's my _sister._" Harry should have known this was coming. He had just hoped things would calm down first, but instead, Ron came sweeping in like a hurricane.

"I'm sorry. I told her we would just take a break, that's all. We'll get back together later," Harry sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. He needed to calm his friend down. He'd rather brought up the matter himself, confessing everything, but Ron had been faster than him.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving her! I had to hear it from HER." Ron's voice was so high it sounded creepy, frustration and anger dripping off his face as he spit the words out. Harry could totally get that. He wouldn't be satisfied hearing from Ginny that Ron had split up with Hermione. Not that such a thing would ever happen, but still.

"Well, I'm sorry! I'm still trying to get my life back on track, Ron. I figured you wouldn't understand, so I was waiting for a suitable moment to tell you." Harry tried to apologize for his secretiveness, but Ron was unyielding.

"I wouldn't understand? You promised me you wouldn't leave her!" Ron crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the raven-haired man distantly.

"I didn't promise you anything, Ron. I just said I would try to save our marriage. This is my way of trying. I need to feel what it's like to be by myself again." Harry kept sweeping the floor with the broom, putting too much pressure on it because of his anger. Dust flew up in clouds and made the room all the more messier.

"I don't recognize you anymore, mate. Ever since you went to Malfoy, you've been different. It's like you don't care about us anymore." The accusation hit like lightning, cutting Harry like a knife. It wasn't true, was it?

"I still care about all of you. You're just pushing me too hard. It's my life, and _I _need to decide for myself what to do with it. Not you, nor Hermione." The way Harry spoke, it sounded remarkably decisive. In the meanwhile, Harry continually feared he'd made the wrong decision, but he couldn't show that to Ron now. He'd use it against him.

"Nor Malfoy," Ron fired back. "Besides, you didn't tell us you were already renovating the place. We could've helped out. I had to hear from George where you were! From George!" Ron threw his hands in the air, defeated.

"George helped me out, I told you last week. Moreover, I took you to this place, you were the first to see it. You could've remembered. Besides, it's not like I'm committing a crime, am I? I'm just trying to find myself again! Don't you understand?" Harry stopped sweeping the floor and looked at his friend in disbelief.

"Let me know when you do," the blue-eyed man grumbled, turning around and leaving through the open door again. He didn't close it, just marched through Diagon Alley with a grim face.

"You're not exactly the best definition of a friend either!" Harry yelled after him. His shoulders sank, and he sat down on the dusty floor. This hadn't gone the way Harry had wanted it to. Of course, he had expected Ron to angry about his decision. If Ginny would have been his sister, he would have been angry about it as well. He wouldn't want to get her hurt. However, it was Harry's life and happiness that was at stake here. It wasn't only about Ginny.

Malfoy was right. He needed to live his life for himself. He'd spent too much time pleasing others and making his closest friends comfortable. Admitted, it was Harry's fault for not being honest to his friends. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Harry got up from the floor, dusting himself off before heading out the door. He needed to talk to Hermione desperately. He hoped she would be home. And alone.

* * *

Harry entered the familiar living room, gazing around for his female friend. The living room was filled with a large brown leather couch, complete with matching coffee table and dining table. The windows were surrounded by soft sandy brown curtains, giving the room a snugly feeling. The girl he was looking for wasn't around, but Harry did hear hurried footsteps up the stairs.

"Hi, Harry. I thought I'd heard someone. What brings you here?" Lucky for Harry, it was Hermione who stormed down the stairs. It wasn't something he'd expected the Healer to do and when Harry heard them he had feared the footsteps belonged to Ron. He sighed with relief when the woman stopped in front of him.

"I thought you were Ron. I came to talk to you." Harry felt awkward, entering the Weasley's home without an invitation and with empty hands. He knew they were his friends, but it still felt awkward.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, immediately getting the clue. She gestured him to follow her to the kitchen. The awkwardness ebbed away as the Survivor sensed Hermione's kindness. She offered him to sit down and started to make some tea. Harry resisted the urge to protest. Ginny always made tea when they had an argument, and he really wasn't up for it. However, he seriously needed to talk to his friend, so he kept his comment to himself. He didn't want to be rude, instead of complaining, he started to talk.

"I had a fight with Ron. I'm here to confess something." Harry considered that a good start, but Hermione's reply made his blood go cold.

"I already heard from Ginny. She's heartbroken," Hermione said, flicking her wand to boil the water and fetch the tea bags. The mention of Ginny and heartbroken in the same sentence almost set Harry's teeth on edge. It seemed that lately, he was the only one accused of being insensitive.

"So you're picking her side as well?" Harry questioned disheartened. He'd honestly hoped Hermione would have given him some of her wise words.

"I'm not taking sides, Harry. You're my friend, but Ginny's my friend as well. Now, tell me, what's your part of the story?" Hermione finally sat down next to Harry, placing two damping mugs between them. Harry was grateful for her interest. For a minute, he'd feared a replay of the scene with Ron. "It's chamomile, your favorite," she added before taking a sip from her cup.

"Thanks. Er, … Well, too begin with, I asked Ginny to take a break. I want to live separately for a while to see how things are between us, you know,-" Harry trailed off. Hermione nodded at him to continue, and Harry gladly smiled at her. There was a world's difference between his two friends. Ron would've already interrupted him ten times by now.

"I'm not sure whether it's the right decision. But I'm certain that staying the way we are now isn't good. Malfoy advised me it was a good idea. We just live apart for a while, and both try to figure out what we want out of life and then we start over again."

"That's a good theory, Harry. If things really are that bad between you and Ginny then Malfoy's probably right. Ginny just thought you'd never return. She fears you won't miss her, because you've been so distant." Harry looked at his mug, avoiding Hermione's eyes. He feared the exact same thing, but he didn't want to tell the smartest graduated Gryffindor.

"That's what I thought. You don't love her anymore, do you?" Hermione continued, observing him all-knowingly. Harry's heart sank in his shoes.

"I don't know. I haven't done anything for myself in these past years. I thought I wanted to be an Auror, but that was just a teenage dream. I changed my mind."

"So that's the part where you quit your job at the Ministry, right?" Hermione added to the conversation. Harry nodded, taking a sip from his mug. Hermione always made the tea drinkable. You could never burn your tongue. The warm fluid sent a hot wave through his chest and Harry couldn't help but feel at home with his friend.

"Yeah. It didn't make me happy anymore. For the past few years I've been dreading to go to work, and the promotion only made it worse." Hermione drank her own cup, her eyes concerned and focused.

"I figured. But I didn't know it was that bad. Does opening the coffee shop have something to do with you leaving Ginny?" Hermione always managed to ask the right questions, and Harry thought about it for a while before replying.

"No. It's something I've always been dreaming about. But I thought, back at Hogwarts, you really needed to do a Wizard thing, especially me, being the Boy Who Lived and all, so I never quite thought about making it real. Until now. If I still adored Ginny like I used to, I'd love to share it with her. Right now, I just want both of us to have a new start."

"I understand that, Harry. I really do, but you know you can hurt people along the way, right? Ron was very upset you didn't tell him about your job and Ginny. He feels like you're pushing him away too."

"He's always trying to make me stay. I feel like if I do my own thing, he won't approve," Harry complained, looking down at the table again. Hermione stretched out her hand, touching Harry's.

"He cares about you, Harry. He's your friend. He doesn't want you get hurt." The motherly tone soothed Harry's emotions, making him feel like he was eleven all over again.

"Ginny is his sister. He doesn't want _her_ to get hurt, Hermione. I know it's a difficult situation, but I can't stay with Ginny because it would please Ron and Molly."

"No, you're right. But are you absolutely sure that you want to break up?" Hermione pulled a pained face, probably having a hard time imagining her and Ron breaking off their marriage.

"Positive."

"I'm not so sure, though. But I am sorry about what I said before, Harry. I had no idea you felt so bad about it. Ginny always said you were doing great. She probably embellished a lot. That's why I wanted you to try. I still want you to try."

"I've been trying for the past few years, 'Mione. Ginny'll be fine. I feel it in my bones."

"Thanks for talking to me, Harry. I feared you wouldn't come because Ginny tends to turn to me so much lately. It's not easy being the husband of your best friend's sister." Hermione smiled, her brown orbs lighting up as she did so. Harry observed the face of his twenty-six year old friend. She looked worn out, and all of a sudden, Harry felt sorry for putting so much weight on her shoulders.

"Maybe you need to take a little break as well. I can see you're suffocating." Harry placed his hand on top this time, squeezing her hand worriedly.

"I'm not suffocating, silly," Hermione laughed, waving away Harry's comment.

"I can tell being both a career-woman and a mother is hard on you. You need to take care of yourself, just like I will. Reduce your hours. Go on a holiday."

"I'll think about it," Hermione said. "I'll go finish my laundry now."

"Oh, I forgot to say something. We finished the renovations upstairs. You should come see it sometime."

"I will, Harry. Oh, and I have some leaflets for you. They're in the drawer over there. I really need to go now. Take care."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry gasped enthusiastically.

Harry turned around, feeling renewed with energy. He wondered why he hadn't talked to Hermione for such a long time and shook his head. Pieces were finally falling in their place. He headed over to the drawer and grabbed the handful of leaflets. Hermione had done her job thoroughly. With bouncing steps, Harry headed back to his new home.

**To be continued…**

**If you have time, feel free to leave a review – I love them all c:**


	8. Chapter 8: Sleepover

**I hope you like where the story's heading! Oh, and before I forget, a special thank you to Sky - aka Darkskyslove for betaing the chapter! ****^_^**

Chapter 8  
Sleepover

"_There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be..." _

― _John Lennon_

Harry knew he needed to talk to Ron. It had been five days since their argument, and since Hermione was – even though only partially – on his side, he needed to convince Ron of his innocence as well. He couldn't love Ginny anymore, and even brotherly love couldn't soothe the raven-haired man's feelings.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and Harry would be meeting Malfoy for his last appointment. He didn't really have anything to say, because the last task Malfoy had given him hadn't quite worked out. He had no intention of keeping a diary. He could hardly express himself, let alone write it down on paper. No, it would be his last meeting with the former Slytherin. Even though Harry wouldn't admit it, he found it regretful. The past few weeks had changed his life dramatically, and he knew he owed all of it to the blonde.

Harry made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping Ron would be there on a Friday night. He ordered a drink and looked around the crowded pub. Strands of red hair caught his eye, Harry nodded a last time to Tom and made his way through the other clients to meet his friend.

"Ron!" Harry announced his arrival, loud enough to overpower the other voices filling the small building. The Redhead turned around, looking in the crowd for the person that had shouted his name, eventually his eyes rested on Harry.

"Harry. What are you doing here?" Ron asked coldly. It seemed like the man hadn't forgotten about their dispute.

"I came here to talk to you. I'm really sorry about Ginny, Ron. I really am. I talked to Hermione, and she understands that we have difficulties that are impossible to overcome." Harry quickly got to the point, knowing he wouldn't have Ron's attention for long once he knew Harry wanted to talk about leaving Ginny.

"Save your shit for someone else, Harry," Ron replied, turning around. Harry didn't give up just yet. He followed the taller man pulling him outside into the paved courtyard.

"I love Ginny. I honestly do, but I just don't love her as my wife anymore. It has changed." Harry spoke the words slowly, so Ron could easily process the information in his head.

"You don't love her, Harry. I can tell you don't. I don't think you're capable of loving anymore." Ron spit the venomous words out as if they had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What?" Harry gasped, thunderstruck. He looked at the man, who'd taken a seat in his compartment all those years ago. The small redhead boy who knew all about wizards. He couldn't believe this was the same person, telling him what Harry had feared for throughout the past few years. Maybe he was incapable of loving someone. Maybe he'd turned as cold as Voldemort. Maybe he'd inherited his inhumanity by killing the vicious man.

"_I wonder whether you know what it's really like to actually love someone. With all your heart." _Malfoy's voice sounded loud and clear in Harry's mind, consuming his happiness like a wildfire.

"You heard me. You're cold and insensitive. You're even being a bastard to me and Hermione for supporting Ginny in her marriage." Ron's eyes glimmered with rage and hostility, and it felt like someone had stabbed a thousand knives in Harry's back.

"It's my marriage as well, Ron!" Harry screamed, throwing his hands in the air. The ginger-haired Auror pulled an eyebrow, taking a step back when Harry's temper rose.

"It won't be for very long, now will it?" He sneered. It was not in Ron's nature to smirk like that, but it set Harry's blood on fire. He opened his mouth to heap abuse on him but thought twice, closed it again and shook his head. He let his shoulders hang, turned around and headed back inside the pub. He needed another drink desperately.

* * *

Draco stopped by in the Leaky Cauldron after finishing his last appointment for that day. He ordered a Firewhisky and sat down on a barstool, looking around the crowded pub. All these men were probably married, trying to drink their way out of their unhappiness. Draco shook his head. He never wanted to get married. If he loved someone, it would be sufficient to just tell his lover his feelings. If anything dramatic came up, there would always be an easy way out.

One of the most current reasons marriages failed was the fact that both partners were tied to each other for life. Quickly, Draco's mind wandered to a particular one of his patients. The raven-haired man had been married for eight years, but Draco could tell Potter would soon divorce his wife. Taking a break out of a marriage was just a postponed divorce. He hadn't told Potter because it would probably scare him. Draco didn't understand, though. If he'd been married to the Weaslette he'd run as fast as he could to get as far away from her as possible.

Most couples were reluctant when it came to divorcing. Some because they were too scared to actually file for a divorce, others – more commonly – because they were scared to enter the market again, so to speak. Potter seemed to be one of the last category. Draco smiled involuntarily. Who would have thought he'd ever talk to Potter again? The man who saved his life.

The memory of the Room of Requirement and the Fiendfyre were burned on Draco's retina. He'd been scared to death when Crabbe had unleashed the spell. The Golden Trio had taken off, leaving them to be burned alive. However, Potter had returned, grabbing his sweaty hand and pulling Draco on the back of his broom with a strength Draco never knew Potter had.

He'd dreamed about that moment a lot. Potter. His knight in shining armor. Draco smiled inwardly, taking another sip from his Firewhisky while observing the customers at the Leaky Cauldron. He was happily surprised to see the raven-haired man sitting alone in one of the scattered chairs. The man looked rather tipsy. Draco got up and made his way over to the man.

"Hey, Potter. Are you getting drunk for our meeting again? I'm running out of anti-hangover potion, you know," Draco teased, taking a tabouret and placing it in front of the green-eyed man.

"Leave me 'one, Malfoy," Potter spoke thickly, heaving up his drink and taking a large sip.

"What happened?" Draco asked, seeing that the man felt miserable.

"N'thing. Mind yer own business." Potter finished his glass of liquor and looked at it dumbly, as if to question why it was empty.

"We're very friendly today, now aren't we? Can I get you another drink?" Potter just grumbled in reply trying to get up from his chair, but failing miserably. The Ice Prince grabbed his arms quickly, preventing the man from falling. "Ow, I think you've had enough Potter. Let me take you home."

"Leaf me 'lone!" Potter protested, dangling dangerously in the blondes arms.

"Calm down already. I'll get you home. You can tell me all about it tomorrow," Draco shushed, taking the man outside. The cold night air hit the Survivor, awakening the alcohol in his blood.

"I'm not c'min. No use," Potter groused, pulling a face. Draco tried hard not to laugh, the man couldn't form a normal sentence anymore. The duo entered Diagon Alley, heading down the deserted shopping centre.

"Why isn't it useful to come?" Draco asked, articulating every single word separately.

"I'm outa love," Potter replied, a miserable expression on his face. His eyes were tired and lifeless, and his sentence died out the last glittering in his eyes.

"Come on, Potter. Don't talk like that. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" Potter protested, pushing the blonde away with a force Draco hadn't seen coming. He observed the wobbling man with a mixture of anger and amusement. He wondered what had gotten into his tiny little brain, convincing him that he was not drunk – while he was currently wasted.

"Okay, okay. You're not drunk, Potter. Clearly, you need to get home as quickly as possible."

"No. There's nobody waitin' there. I don't wanna go home," Potter wept, sinking down to the ground, falling on his buttocks with a loud thump. Draco pulled a face, stepping over to the 26-year-old and pulling him up his feet again.

"I'll be there, Potter."

"You're not welcome, Malfoy. I'm supposed to hate you," Potter confessed, trying to pull a serious face. Instead, his expression resembled that of a mad scientist. Draco chuckled, pulling the man closer.

"That's not an excuse Potter. You'll have to offer me at least a drink before sending me off again. After all, I'm the one taking care of you, am I not?" Potter looked up in Draco's grey orbs, a begging look in his eyes.

"Why?" The man asked, disoriented and confused. Draco pitied the man right now. What had happened to the vibrant young man he knew at Hogwarts? His knight in shining armor had grown up to be an alcoholic.

"Because I want to, Potter." They reached Potter's place. "Do you have the key?"

Potter reached in his pocket, still swaying from one side to the other. After what seemed like an eternity, Draco opened the door with Alohomora. Surprisingly, it opened.

"I can't believe you don't have counterspells on your door, Potter. What are you, a nitwit?"

"See, you're calling me names as well. You don't care 'bout me." Potter walked to the staircase, grabbing the banisters to help him mounting. His first attempt failed, making him swing backwards, almost falling to the ground again. The Boy Who Lived found his balance again, giving his action a second shot. He met with disaster again, falling down the stairs, hitting the wall with his head. "AAARGH," Potter exclaimed, looking around disoriented.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, a worried look on his face. He took a step closer to the man, uncertain of what to do.

"Fine," Potter moaned.

"I'll carry you upstairs." Draco collected the bundle of clothes on the ground and held Potter firmly before mounting the stairs. The former Gryffindor was heavy, but Draco managed to carry him all the way up. Potter wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, his warm breath tickling Draco's skin. The feeling gave him goosebumps, a hot sensation rushing through his veins from the spot where Potter's breath had touched him.

He entered the small bedroom and laid Potter down on his bed. The man moaned slightly, reaching for his feet to take off his shoes. However, he wasn't trying hard enough and soon ceased, giving in to his tiredness. A small smile crossed Draco's features, eyeing the adoring man fondly. He reached for Potter's shoes, untied them and put them on the ground. He pulled up Potter's T-shirt, and the latter willingly put up his hands to allow Draco to take it off. He finished taking off Potter's pants, facing a half naked, drunk Potter. Draco smiled warmly, got up and started walking to the door.

"Don't go," Potter whispered. His voice was barely audible, nevertheless Draco stopped in his tracks, turning around again.

"I'll be just outside," Draco replied softly.

"No! Stay here," Potter protested, lamenting like a four-year-old who didn't get to listen to a bed-time story. Draco gave in sitting back down on the edge of Potter's bed. There he was, in the same room with a half-naked Boy Who Lived, waiting for the shorter man to fall asleep.

* * *

Harry snuggled deeper into the pillows and pulled the person lying next to him closer. The scent of his bed partner was all over his body, and Harry smiled in his sleep, contently sighing. His dream was filled with shades of green and grey. A vanilla and musk breeze blew through the mixture of colors, adding up to the comfort of Harry's dream. The only thing disturbing the peace was a steady hammering.

Harry frowned. The more he asked the feeling to go away, the harder the thumping became. He finally woke up, opening his eyes just a little to adjust to the light that was shining through the window. Soon, Harry realized he'd dreamed about Malfoy again, an unsettling feeling ruining his mood. He shifted in his bed and then suddenly became aware of the presence next to him.

A blonde mop of hair was lying on the other part of Harry's pillow, a pointy nose buried in his left arm. This very arm was wrapped around the Slytherin's shoulders while Malfoy's arm was loosely wrapped around Harry's waist. Alarmed, Harry jumped up. His headache made him dizzy for a while, but then he recovered and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"MALFOY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?!" Harry's voice was still hoarse from sleeping, and the crack hurt his dry throat. He needed water desperately. Little by little, his memories trickled back in his brain. Ron who had insulted him. Malfoy who had bothered him. He'd insisted on bringing him home. But then, his mind went blurry, leaving Harry to guess what had happened next. The man occupying his bed slowly became awake, frowning pushed back the covers. His blonde eyelashes fluttered open, revealing dark grey eyes, still filled with sleep.

"What?" He asked disoriented.

"You're in my bed, Malfoy. Get the hell out of it," Harry snapped, pulling the man's arm. His former arch enemy was still wearing his clothes, whereupon Harry realized he wasn't wearing anything except his underwear. Even though his morning hardness had decreased substantially upon discovering a strange man in his bed, it was still clearly visible under the thin cloth. Malfoy sat up, eyeing Harry from head to toe.

"Yeah, of course you idiot," he scolded, finally awake enough to react.

"In case you didn't know, you're uninvited." Harry crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the blonde with a furious gleam in his eyes.

"That's not true. You begged me to stay yesterday. I must've fallen asleep. What time is it?" Malfoy looked around for a clock, and Harry pointed to his night alarm with an irritated sigh. It was 9 a.m.

"You shouldn't accept invitations from drunk people, Mafloy. They say things they don't mean. Is there any explanation for my nakedness?" Harry brought it up anyway, feeling uncomfortable by not knowing why his clothes had disappeared.

"Nakedness?" Malfoy mocked, observing the raven-haired man with a mischievous grin. "I took off your clothes because you were sound asleep from the moment your head hit the pillow," he explained.

"Did I ask you to? What is wrong with you Malfoy? Why don't you just get lost?" Harry threw up his hands in disbelief, marching around the room in frustration.

"That won't be necessary. Our appointment is in an hour, and you're the only one on Saturday mornings."

"Isn't the old man coming anymore?" Harry questioned, remembering the first time he'd exited the room.

"Old man? Who are you talking about?"

"A man nearing his fifties, or something. He was there once. He scared the shit out of me," Harry confessed, a cold shiver running down his spine as he thought of it.

"Oh, that man. No, he's not coming anymore. His wife was seeing someone else and filed for divorce, so it was useless. We could go together to my office, that'd be much easier." Malfoy proposed.

"I refuse," Harry grunted, turning to his closet to fetch some fresh clothes. His mood wasn't getting any better and the fact that he'd spent the night with Malfoy in the same bed, not knowing what had happened between two and nine last night was bothersome.

"Stop being childish. Point me your shower instead." Malfoy got up from Harry's bed, tidying the sheets with a simple swing of his wand. This only made Harry grumpier.

"You're not using my shower, Malfoy. Forget it. Just go home."

"So, I am good enough to stay with you at night, but in the morning I have to get lost?" There was a naughty glittering in his eyes, which made Harry swallow uncomfortably.

"What are you insinuating?" Harry bit, alarmed by the weirdness of the sentence.

"You mean you don't know what happened?" Malfoy pulled a shocked face, getting up from the bed and walking up to Harry, who was currently deciding between a black and a beige sweater. "Pick the beige one," Malfoy whispered in his ear, touching his shoulder lightly before exiting the bedroom. Harry opened his mouth to call the blonde a whole series of names, but was frozen. Had they-? No. they couldn't have - "Ậﻇ∫‼‹›₸ ‼#æ* ! ￦∞?~¦é˜! ಈ‡"

Harry stormed out of the bedroom and followed Malfoy into the bathroom. "What happened last night? You didn't do anything, … funny, did you?" Harry stood there, facing the taller man with a beige sweater in his hands.

"Funny? No, but you did. You fell off the stairs twice," Malfoy said while unbuttoning his blouse and revealing two large porcelain shoulders. He was facing the shower, his back turned to Harry. Harry followed Malfoy's spine with his eyes, his muscular back making his dry mouth water. He punched himself inwardly, trying to put order in his chaotic mind.

"So why are my clothes off then?" Harry asked while Malfoy unzipped his pants. The temperature in the bathroom rose, a stirring feeling tickling Harry's abdomen.

"Like I said, because you were already asleep. If you're wondering whether we had sex, the answer's no." The fact that Malfoy talked about sex so easily astounded Harry, but he tried not to give it away.

"Good," Harry replied, relief sounding through his voice. Malfoy's pants hit the floor. Harry kept watching, unable to tear his gaze away from the half-naked man.

"Why all this tension? I don't think you have it in you anyway," Malfoy said, stepping out of the trouser legs. Harry pulled an eyebrow.

"Pardon me?"

"To have a one night stand, I mean. You don't have it in you." At this, a boiling heat made its way through Harry's veins. He faltered for a moment, and then found his speech.

"Why are you so sure about that?!" Harry grumbled, his temper rising again. Why was it that this man always got on his nerves so quickly?

"You never cheated on the Weaslette, did you?" Malfoy eyed him, an inscrutable look in his eyes.

"No."

"See." With those words, Malfoy undid his last piece of clothing, and stepped under the shower. He closed the curtain with a big smirk on his face. Harry couldn't move. The bathroom remained silent for a while, until the shower was turned on. Harry blinked. Once. Twice.

He'd just seen a naked Malfoy stepping into his shower. The worst part: he wasn't disgusted at all. He turned around and left the room, the image of Malfoy still burned on his retina. The moment replayed in the back of his mind, unable to push the stop button. He marched downstairs to prepare some breakfast, wondering about why Malfoy would get naked in front of him. Was he trying to pester him? Was he just careless? Would he do that in front on anybody? Harry wanted to scream his lungs out because of the frustration circulating through his body, but he couldn't. Malfoy was still upstairs and would certainly make fun of him.

Harry tried to keep hold on himself, but it was extremely difficult. The past quarter had been filled with confusing occurrences, turning Harry's life once again upside down. A half hour later, the Boy Who Lived had pulled himself together again. He'd prepared a nice breakfast for the both of them. Just as the toast was ready, Malfoy entered the living room. He marched into the joined kitchen, a playful smile on his face.

"That looks delicious, Potter." His smile reached his eyes, which surprised Harry even more.

"Dig in," Harry replied, trying not to turn red. He kept imagining the man naked in front of him, unable to help himself. He could feel the hotness creep up his cheeks, but forced himself to remain calm.

"I left some hot water for you," Malfoy said. The blonde took a piece of toast and spread it with jelly. Harry sat down as well, a confused look on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He filled his plate with some eggs, and grabbed a piece of toast as well.

"I was just making a silly comment, Potter." Malfoy bit his toast, chewing the crunchy bread while looking at Harry.

"You're losing it, Malfoy. Trust me."

"You're the fool around here, not me. Tell me about yesterday. What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me? I can't seem to remember anything, I thought I informed you about that?"

"Not that, moron. Before. Why were you so devastated?"

"We're not at the office right now, Malfoy. I'm not talking about that."

"Why not? What's the difference?"

"Let me see, … Perhaps the fact that you're not a therapist right now, and you already told me once it was all my fault my marriage failed."

"I already told you once that you were just being an asshole and I punished you for that. Just try and remain calm, for Salazar's Sake. You told me you were out of love. What was that supposed to mean?"

"I met Ron. I tried to make up with him, but he was still terribly upset. He told me I'm not capable of loving anymore."

"You know that's not true, right?" Harry shook his head, playing with his food instead of eating it.

"No. He's right. It has crossed my mind several times, and I'm almost convinced that's what happened to our marriage. By killing Voldemort, I became unable to love," Harry confessed, a dreary look in his eyes.

"You're dramatising, Potter. Please, nobody can be unable to love. You're just not in love anymore with the woman you promised to love for ever. It's rude and heartbreaking, but it doesn't mean you'll never love again. I believe that once you two split up, you'll both find meaning to your lives again." Malfoy finished his toast, grabbing another one as he swallowed.

"You're only saying that. Ron would say such rude things if they weren't true, Malfoy. H's wright. I'm a sick bastard."

"Merlin, Potter. The Weasel is just angry because you don't love his little sister anymore. It may be a newsflash to both of you, but the Weaslette is capable of taking care of herself. She's twenty-five, she doesn't need her big brother to deal with her difficult situations." Harry observed the blonde, reconsidering his words. He'd never known the man could be so wise, and it was hard not to believe his words. They were comforting, soothing and so easy to believe. But he shook his head anyway, pushing away his breakfast and got up from his chair.

"Anyhow, it's for the better that we're separated now. Ginny's better off without me. I kept holding her back.

"She kept holding you back, Potter. Stop being a dumbass and admit that the Weasel is full of shit," Malfoy put down his toast as well, getting up from his chair and facing Harry with what seemed to be a concerned look in his eyes.

"Stop calling him the Weasel. His name's Ron," Harry retorted defensively, crossing his arms. Malfoy took another step closer, the distance between their faces decreasing significantly.

"I don't care," Malfoy replied, a half-smile splitting his face in two. The twinkle in his silver eyes was very appealing, and Harry took a nervous breath. He uncrossed his arms, letting them hand loosely alongside his body.

"I think this will be the last appointment, Malfoy. We're finished, right?"

"Shush," Malfoy whispered, tiding over the last few inches. The tall man wrapped his long arms around Harry's shoulders, holding him tight in an embrace. Vanilla and what smelled like his own coconut soap penetrated Harry's nose and made him hypnotic for a while. Harry just stood there, his head resting against Malfoy's chest, feeling how it rose and fell under the constant beating of his heart. It calmed Harry down. Malfoy's arms held him tightly, exercising a gentle pressure on Harry's muscles. Finally, Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy's waist, responding to the cuddle and giving in to the sandstorm of emotions.

Time stopped and nothing else seemed to matter anymore. After what felt like an eternity, but felt too short at the same time, both men let go, and faced one another in silence.

"It wasn't your last appointment, Potter. You don't have to come today, since we already discussed everything, but I'm expecting to see you next week."

"I didn't keep a diary."

"Then I would get started if I were you. Mark my words, Potter. Be there." With those words, Malfoy marched to the door, opening it and turning around one last time.

"Don't forget to secure your door with counterspells. You haven't done that yet. It's dangerous."

"Oh," was all Harry could say, vaguely remembering it being mentioned last night.

"Have a nice day. Don't get drunk again, I won't be there to save you this time," Malfoy teased, a playful grin crossing his pink lips. Harry just nodded, not able to form a normal sentence after the intimate moment they shared.

Malfoy was still standing in his front door, eyeing the raven-haired Survivor.

"Don't get naked in front of anyone again. I don't think your boyfriend will like that," Harry retorted, marching up to the front door as Malfoy stepped outside.

"What makes you think I'd get naked in front of anyone?"

"Is that something you do every day, undressing in other people's bathrooms while they're talking to you?" Harry questioned, his green orbs filled with disbelief.

"No. As a matter of fact, it isn't. Terence doesn't have to know. Let it be our little secret. Besides, it's not like you're gay, right Potter?" Harry turned as red as a tomato, momentarily paralyzed. Then, he found his tongue, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Terence, isn't that the kid I once defeated during Quidditch? First year."

"Yeah, Terence Higgs. He's not a kid anymore though," Malfoy stood there, looking at the ground, and Harry didn't know what to say either.

"Tell him I said hi," he then said, nodding one last time to the former Slytherin.

"Good Bye Potter."

Harry closed the door, facing the thick wood with a confused look. It felt as if neither of them had wanted to leave, even though Harry had been screaming at the blonde moments ago, trying to make him leave. Harry could still feel the man's arms around his body, Malfoy's muscular torso making it possible to hide his face. Unlike Ginny's frail body, his strong arms had been so solid, giving Harry a feeling of security he'd never felt before. It confused him to no end.

At the same time, Harry felt miserable, knowing this was the last time he had a valid reason to see the blonde. Their therapy was over. And he'd probably never see Malfoy again.

**To be continued.**

**Feel free to speak your mind c:**


	9. Chapter 9: Back and Forth

**Here you are again! I'll start off by thanking all the guests that left comments, since I always forget to do that. Thank you SO much for taking the time to leave a comment, even though you don't have an account here! **

**A thank you to all the other reviewers as well, and I want to thank you for all the favorites and followers as well.**

**There you have it. Enjoy this chapter c:**

Chapter 9  
Back and forth

_A goal is not always meant to be reached, it often serves simply as something to aim at._

_- Bruce Lee_

Harry entered the coffee house, once again amazed by the changes the place had undergone in the past three weeks. Four weeks ago, Harry had seen the old building for the first time, and he'd instantly fallen in love with it. Gradually, the reason why he'd loved the place was starting to show. The large window was cleaned, the front door was repainted in emerald green. Inside, the walls were painted celadon, and the old wooden bars had a raw umber color. The floor wasn't finished yet, but the tiles were in the storeroom and had a tan color.

The tables and chairs would soon be ordered, and Harry already had the designs for it. Along the window, there would be a row of comfortable tabourets, with a forest green seat. The support had to have the same color as the wooden bars that supported the entire building. At the bar, there would be seven high barstools, also with forest green colored seats. On the other hand, the chairs in the middle would have the same brown support, but the seats had to be asparagus, creating harmony between the celadon walls and the other forest green seats. The design of the chair would resemble that of an egg chair, but in a more compact form. The tables would be square, made from the same wood as the rest of the furniture. Against the walls, there would be a row of comfortable sofa's, in asparagus as well.

Harry had it all figured out. Of course, there was still a lot to do. The appliances at the bar still had to be ordered and installed, the lighting still needed to be done, and after that, everything needed its finishing touch. So far, Harry had enjoyed the entire process. His workers were exceptionally cooperative, and his interior designer loved every idea Harry had offered. George was very enthusiastic all the way. As a whole, the project was very exciting.

His first week of training to get his business management degree had gone by very quickly. Nevertheless, Harry was glad it was Friday, because multitasking was very hard to do, and he was exhausted. Anyhow, the workers would be back tomorrow, because that was the only day they could work while Harry was at home. Up until now, they had followed Harry's instruction very well, but for the finishing parts, they preferred him around, because there were so many questions to ask.

He scratched his back upon entering his living room, looking around happily. He was doing fine on his own. Okay, the kitchen was a little messy, and his laundry still needed to be done, but apart from that, Harry could say he managed well. He sat down in the sofa, and was about to turn on the television when all of a sudden his fireplace lit up. Harry was scared out of his wits, and then a pointy face appeared in the flames.

"Malfoy! Merlin, you frightened me!" Harry exclaimed, getting up from the couch again and walking to his fireplace. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to call you. In case you don't remember, it's been two weeks since you've last seen me, and tomorrow's supposed to be our eighth appointment, but you missed out on two."

"I know I did. I told you I didn't have anything left to say."

"Well, I think you do. I'm expecting you tomorrow, and if you're not there, I'm coming to get you in person, Potter," Malfoy's eyes gleamed threateningly. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"I don't need a therapist anymore. I don't miss Ginny at all – well, I do miss her, but more as a friend than as a wife – anyway, everything's fine, so leave me alone." Harry knew that this wasn't very close to the truth, but he was just trying to get Malfoy to leave.

"It's not fine. Mrs. Potter still wants to see me, so you're obliged to come as long as you're not divorced."

"You're making that up," Harry bit, squeezing his eyes shut.

"She asked for you, Potter. The least you could do is keeping your promise. You promised her to keep coming, and to update her on your life and how you feel without her. This way, you can get back together afterwards." Harry just stared at the blonde, feeling cornered and angry at the same time.

"I'm really busy right now, Malfoy. I just don't have time for that shit."

"Just a newsflash, Potter. It's _that shit _that got you this place, so have a little respect for my profession, will you." Malfoy's eyes shot fire, adding up to the flames licking the edges of his face.

"Alright, alright. Can't we make it on Sunday? I need to be around here tomorrow, the workers need me."

"I don't work on Sunday's either, Potter." Malfoy had a vicious tug around his mouth.

"Well, make it an exception. If you want to see me, it'll be Sunday, end of discussion." Harry crossed his arms, showing with his body language that he wasn't changing his mind.

"Fine," Malfoy said. "But then we'll have to do it at your place."

"Whatever you want, Malfoy."

"Good. I'll see you on Sunday at ten o'clock."

"Fine." Harry grumbled. They shared a last look before the fire died out. Harry sat back in the couch, turning on the TV with the remote. However, his thoughts soon trailed off, thinking about the man whose face he'd just seen in the flames. Why was he so persistent? He didn't care about his marriage with Ginny right? The git must be doing it for the money.

Harry rolled his eyes at the thought, wanting to kick Malfoy in the face desperately. He immediately wanted to go tell Ron about Malfoy's annoying rant, but he realized he couldn't. He hadn't spoken to his best friend since their last fight. The past two weeks, Harry had turned to George and Hermione, avoiding a confrontation with the other Redhead. Hermione had assured him everything would be alright in the end, but being in the middle of a serious fight at the moment, Harry didn't see the bright side of the situation. Honestly, he just wanted his friend back.

* * *

It was Saturday evening, and Harry had been out flying his broom to get his thoughts in the right order. He passed by Ron and Hermione's house, mounting of his broom before knocking on the door. Hermione would be home, the only question was whether Ron would be there. He could be in the pub, but then again, he could as well be home.

Hermione opened the door. A smile appeared on her face when she saw who was visiting, and she quickly stepped back and opened the door further to let him in. "Hi, Harry. Come in," she greeted, her chocolate eyes giving him a warm embrace.

Harry entered, with the broomstick in his hands. "Hi, 'Mione. I was around, so I thought I'd stop by."

"It's great to see you. How was your training?" The woman immediately questioned, leading him through the hall into the living room.

"Good. It went well. It's not very difficult, you know. The classmates are full of life and inspiration, it's really fun so far. I'm looking forward to starting my business," Harry replied, thinking about the past week. It was by far the best week since he graduated Hogwarts. Being back in school, doing something he liked was a huge step forward, and helped improving Harry's mood.

"I'm happy you took the risk, Harry. I can see you're enjoying it to its fullest. Be quiet, though, the kids are already in bed. If they hear you, they'll be bouncing down the stairs immediately." Hermione walked into the kitchen, fetching them something to drink.

"Oh," Harry said, lowering his voice a little. He sat down in the sofa, looking around. "Is Ron here?" he then asked hesitantly.

"No, don't worry. He's probably in the Leaky Cauldron. I don't think he'll be long though. He's been invited by some colleagues from the Ministry because of his promotion." She returned with two glasses of lemonade, placing them down on two coasters that appeared with a swing of her wand.

"He's been promoted? That's the first thing I hear about it." Hermione sat down next to Harry in the sofa, a worried frown rippling her forehead.

"Yeah, he got the promotion on Friday," Hermione replied, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. That was the last day Harry had been working. It was normal for the Ministry to promote someone new as Headauror, since they really needed one.

"That's quick. I'm happy for him. And for you as well, 'Mione. It's great. Maybe he'll lighten up a bit. At least that's one good thing that resulted from me leaving Ginny."

"Talking about her, she manages quite alright. I stopped by the Grimmauld place. She's a bit more cheerful. She's still very sad, but she's getting there." Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile, knowing that the man didn't feel good about hurting his wife.

"So you think she'll come around too?" Harry's voice was filled with hopefulness.

"Of course she will, Harry. Everyone does in the end. She just needs time, just like you needed time to be able to make this decision. I can tell you did the right thing. You're beaming with happiness. I missed that about you, Harry. I was too blind to see you were suffocating in your life. I'm sorry for being so cross-grained at first." Hermione looked down at her feet, a guilty shadow falling over her face.

"Don't be. It made me question my choices. However, I'm glad you agree with all of this now. It's good not to be alone." The smile returned on her face.

"Did you see Malfoy?" At this, Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, but I spoke to him yesterday. He insisted on making an appointment. We're meeting tomorrow." Harry tried to show his annoyance with the whole situation.

"Where did you meet him?"

"He called me at home. He scared me big time, appearing in my fireplace like that. I think it's rude that he's barging in like that."

"You made a promise, Harry," Hermione reprimanded wisely.

"I know, that's what he said. I'll go," Harry sighed. He must've known that would be Hermione's reaction. She wasn't Ron after all. From time to time, Harry needed the occasion to exaggerate about something, but Hermione always saw things in their rightful way. Her logical mind didn't prejudge or blow things out of proportions.

"Good," Hermione smiled. Harry returned the smile, finishing his lemonade in one draught. He got up, apologizingly waving at his female best friend.

"I'm off again. I don't want to barge into Ron this late. It might wake the kids."

"Yeah, you're right," his curly haired friend replied, while leading him to the door. Harry hugged the woman and turned around, still feeling like there was something missing. It had been good to talk to Hermione. It always felt good to talk to her. It wasn't the conversation that had been insufficient. It was something else. A certain redhaired man with a freckled face.

* * *

On Sunday, Harry got up early in the morning. He still had a lot of work to do before Malfoy came. Harry would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't nervous for the man's visit. He cleaned up his living room with the simple spell _Tergeo_, tidied up his bedroom and _scourgified_ the kitchen. He put the laundry in the washing machine – another one of the Muggle thing in Harry's place – and sent some tools downstairs with _Wingardium Leviosa. _After cleaning up, Harry decided to take a long hot shower.

He took off his clothes in the bathroom, facing the shower. Then, like a lightning bolt, a memory hit him. Draco Malfoy. Naked. In this very bathroom. Harry could feel how his blood started to circulate through his body. He tensed up, dropping his boxers with a pained expression on his face. Why did this always happen to him? He blinked, and each time his eyes closed, he saw the porcelain skin, the small curve in the blonde's back before his eyes reached his buttocks. It was small in comparison to Ginny's behind, and the shape was completely different. Still thinking about Malfoy's bum, Harry stepped under the shower.

He could use a cold shower right now, but Harry didn't feel like paining himself with a jet of icy water, so he wetted himself with nice, hot water. The water jet massaged his neck muscles and Harry let out a relaxed moan. He looked at his feet while the water did its work as another thought came floating in his mind. Harry hadn't seen the man entirely naked, he'd been facing the shower. Still, he could imagine very vividly what the front side would look like, surrounded with blonde, curly hair. Harry frowned at his own train of thoughts. He didn't know why he imagined the man with blonde hair down below, but he remembered how blonde Malfoy's pubic hair had been in his dream. His hot dream.

Shocked, he opened his eyes again, still facing his feet. He curled his toes, his thoughts still twirling around Malfoy. He remembered looking at his feet while telling Malfoy all about his sex life. He'd slowly become aroused, and was hoping the former Death Eater wouldn't notice. Malfoy, on the other hand had been very professional. He hadn't laughed because Harry wasn't getting laid. – Wait a minute. Was that the reason why Malfoy had undressed in front of him? To tease him because his wife didn't fulfill his needs? Harry shook his head to stop his mind from trailing off. He needed to focus on right now. Malfoy would be here in an hour.

_Malfoy_. Why had the man such a strange effect on him? The last time he was at Harry's place, they'd shared a strange hug. The embrace had been intimate, almost too intimate to share with someone who was only supposed to be your therapist. Or enemy. Confusion trickled in Harry's mind as drops of water fell off his nose. Harry grabbed the soap and started to lather himself with steady movements. He hesitated upon reaching his penis.

He had an erection. _Again. _Why was he so damn horny all the time? His libido hadn't been high in nine years, why did he have a lust for sex now that his wife was out of the picture? To be honest, Harry had never been a sexual person. He rarely satisfied himself, but at this very moment, Harry couldn't resist. His hands caressed the skin of his erection, a pleasurable wave spreading from his abdomen. He leaned against the tiled wall, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. Soon, he sped up the pace, small noises coming from the back of his throat.

Harry thought about slender fingers touching his skin. The surprisingly warm hands would caress his arms, make their way across his chest as a hot breath would whisper his name in his ear. _"Potter" _Harry moaned deeply, the slender fingers reaching his pubic hair.

"That's about where we left off, isn't it Potter?" Harry could feel how a pair of feet stood next to him, long toes touching his own. He could feel the warm body holding him tight, and wanted to bury his face in the crook of the blonde man's neck. Harry was reaching the edge. He panted heavily. His vision blurred. His muscles contracted when he had his orgasm. Grey eyes were burned on his retina, and the euphoric release slowly faded away. Adrenalin left his body, and suddenly Harry became aware of his surroundings again.

He was alone. A dull glow died out his bright green eyes, and he quickly cleaned himself up. Damn. He shouldn't have done it. Now Harry felt even worse. He turned off the tab and dried himself off, trying to be as quick as he could. His skin was still sensitive, and the weird sensation that it gave off upon being touched annoyed him. He needed to get out of the hot room.

He exited the bathroom, marching into the living room. Harry sat down in the couch, crossed his arms and started sulking. Malfoy would be here in a couple of minutes. How could he possibly face the bloody therapist after this? Why had Harry lost himself completely? He should've known his mind would've returned to the blonde. Harry felt guilty for fantasizing about having sex with Malfoy. It had happened several times now. In his dreams, with Ginny, with himself. However, the fact that the comforting feeling he thought he had in the shower wasn't real affected him more than the fact that it was Malfoy who gave it to him.

Two short knocks pulled Harry out of his reverie. The tall blonde was standing in his living room, in front of the fireplace. Harry had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard the man entering. There was a small grin on the Ice Prince's face and he stepped closer to offer his hand.

Harry shook it, palm touching palm for a second too long and then Malfoy sat down in the couch, three feet away from Harry. Harry's eyes followed the slender fingers. His heart started to speed up, observing how Malfoy folded his hands. He positioned himself so that he was facing the Boy Who Lived. When the former Slytherin spoke, Harry's eyes shot up and met with two orbs of molten silver.

"So, I'm not happy that you left me hanging last week." Malfoy's pink lips formed the words, and as he spoke a small part of his white teeth was visible. Harry kept staring at his face, retorting instantly.

"I told you already that I don't see the point in coming." Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. He crossed his long legs, his right foot – concealed in black designer shoes – pointing at Harry.

"I thought you wanted to save your marriage?" Malfoy's voice was friendly, his walls of professionalism pulled up. It annoyed Harry, but right now, it didn't make him angry like it had before.

"You told me yourself that once a married couple separates, it's very unlikely for them to get back together," Harry replied, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The annoyance quickly made place for something else. The last thing he wanted was to become aroused in front of this very man again, right after finishing himself off in the shower.

"Yes, I did. But I didn't say it was impossible, right?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh Merlin. I'm happy right now. Why can't anyone tell the difference?"

"I _can _tell the difference, Potter. But you made a promise to your wife, so you have to keep seeing me, just to make sure you did everything you could. I can tell you had your share of the life with Ginny. But still, there are some questions I'd like to ask you."

"Shoot." Harry crossed his arms, preparing for the competition. He offered the sneaky Slytherin a challenging look.

"First of all, have you completed the assignment I gave you?" Malfoy didn't seem to notice Harry's fighting spirit and reached in his suitcase. He got out his _– surprise, surprise_ – notebook and a self-writing quill.

"No. Next question."

"Not so fast, Potter. I realize I'm in your area right now, but that doesn't mean you get to lead the conversation, do you understand?" The tone of authority caught Harry off guard.

"Whatever," he replied grumpily. He felt like a four-year-old that had just gotten a talking-to.

"Why haven't you tried to write down the differences?" Malfoy's voice remained calm and friendly.

"I'm not a writer. I can as well tell them right now, can't I?" Harry huffed.

"Okay. Instead of being cross-grained, go ahead and inform me." A small smile uplifted the corners of his mouth, a mischievous expression in his eyes.

"Don't you want anything to drink?" Harry offered, avoiding the question. It would give him some extra time to compose the answer in his mind.

"I'd love a glass of lemonade, thank you." Malfoy nodded courteously.

"I'll go get that," Harry said with a curt nod and made a movement to get up from the couch. He froze in the middle when Malfoy gave a barking laugh.

"Why don't you just make it appear magically, Potter. Aren't you a wizard?" Malfoy mocked. Harry's head turned as red as a tomato and he quickly conjured two glasses of lemonade.

"Tell me," Malfoy urged, as if they hadn't been interrupted. He bent forward to grab his glass and took a sip. Harry watched his Adam's apple go up and down, then replied.

"I don't miss her. I'm very busy, you know, with the constructions here and my training, I don't think about Ginny at all." Harry felt proud for being able to say that, although he didn't know why he felt that way. Maybe he wanted to impress Malfoy, by proving that he really didn't need Ginny. Or maybe he just wanted to point out that it wasn't his fault the marriage hadn't worked out.

"But when everything's gone quiet, doesn't your mind start to wonder? Don't you ever feel lonely?" Doubt made its way to Harry's heart. At first he wanted to curse Malfoy for asking such sensitive and difficult questions, then he just stared at his own glass of lemonade, trying to get his mind in the right order.

"Yeah, well-" Harry hesitated. "At night, I sometimes feel lonely. But that doesn't necessarily mean I miss Ginny. I just miss the company, that's all. Having a roommate would solve that problem." Although Harry wasn't very certain he'd answered correctly, it was something he knew for sure. He didn't miss Ginny's company. He'd hated to be around her in the last couple of months, and if he would say that he missed her he would be lying. However, saying he didn't miss her at all was a lie too. A small part of him missed the former Ginny. The girl she used to be.

"Good. When do you think you'll talk to your wife again?"

"I hope not anytime soon. I'm still enjoying life as a single man." Harry knew that meeting Ginny would only be more confusion. If only talking about it made his heart restless, imagine what talking to her in person would do.

"You're still married, Potter," Malfoy noted dryly.

"Merlin, Malfoy. I totally forgot about that! Thanks for reminding me," Harry replied sarcastically, glaring at the man. A smile crossed Malfoy's lips, which sent a shiver down Harry's spine, immediately causing a mood swing, sarcasm making place for enjoyment. "Did you talk to Ginny already?" Harry asked when the pleasant wave died away.

"Yes, I did. I told you that Friday, Potter." Malfoy glared at the Survivor, a glimpse of disbelief in his eyes, then continued: " She's doing great. She just wants you to keep coming to, so that there's still something connecting the two of you."

"This ring still does," Harry grunted, not happy that the entire conversation was revolving around Ginny again. What had he expected? That once he lived alone he'd never hear a word about her anymore? Had he thought Malfoy would have talked about the two of them? About their embrace? Harry sighed, confused green eyes meeting grey ones.

"Does that bother you? The fact that you're still married?" Malfoy's pen kept writing without assistance of Malfoy's hands whatsoever. It vaguely reminded Harry of Rita Skeeter and her poison pen all those years ago. He could still smell the mixture of the muggy broom cupboard and Rita Skeeter's perfume, back in his fourth year at Hogwarts. She had succeeded of translating all his _er's _and _ehm's _into a heartbreaking story. It had enraged Harry to read about the romantic relationship with Hermione and the tears appearing in his eyes whenever his parents were mentioned. Harry shook his head to get out of his reverie, focusing back on Malfoy's question.

"Yes and no. It's not that I want to divorce, you know. I just don't see why we still need to be married. We're not in love anymore. However, I'm not planning on marrying ever again." Harry's reply sounded very resolute, and more certain than he felt about it inside.

"So, are you already deciding to divorce her or not?"

"I don't know, Malfoy. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I don't want to go back to Grimmauld Place, not for a million Galleons."

"Good. The good news is, Mrs. Potter doesn't want you to move in either. She's enjoying her free time, and even though she feels a bit lonely, she's found the time to catch up with old friends."

"Like Hermione?" Harry questioned cynically.

"No, I said _old _friends, Potter. She's been in touch with Granger all her life. I'm talking about other Gryffindorks." The news startled Harry a little, his head shooting up attentively.

"Like who? Did she tell you the names?"

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden, Potter? It doesn't concern you, now does it?" Malfoy put his finger on the sore spot. However, Harry wasn't about to be fobbed off.

"In for a penny, in for a pound Malfoy. Say it."

"Brown and Thomas," Malfoy confessed. Harry stared at the wall, thinking about Ginny catching up with his former friends. He didn't know how he felt about that, but a pinch of jealousy made his heart squeeze. Malfoy seemed to notice.

"Does that affect you, Potter? Does it sound strange to you that she's moving on?"

"She's just catching up with friends, Malfoy. She's a grown woman, allowed to do whatever she pleases."

"So you _say_. But how do you _feel_ about it?" Harry looked up at the man. He had never known Malfoy could be that smart. He resembled Hermione a lot, always knowing the right thing to ask or say.

"It's difficult. It's like – I don't know. I just didn't expect her to contact her old friends. Especially not Dean. She used to date him back at Hogwarts." Harry threw his hands in the air. He leaned forward to grab the glass of lemonade, and took his first sip.

"I can tell you're not happy about it, Potter. You tensed."

"I'm fine. I don't care what she does. I just want us to stay friends." Harry knew he was acting like a child. Only moments ago he'd assured his therapist that he didn't want to see the woman. Now he was trying to convince himself as well as Malfoy that he wanted to befriend his wife. He wasn't making any sense.

"Why haven't you contacted her, then?"

"I don't know. It's not just not that easy, Malfoy. I'm her _husband. _I can't be her _friend."_ Harry frowned at the thought, not sure if that was exactly how he felt. He didn't know how to describe the confusing mingling of feelings in his heart and looked around his room desperately. "I think I'll crawl back to her once I see her," he then confessed.

Malfoy pulled up his eyebrows in surprise. "You just said you didn't miss her," he frowned. _I know I said that," _Harry thought fervently, his face scrunching up in thought. Why did it bother him that Ginny was talking to old friends? Harry had to admit it did bother him right now. When there came no reply, Malfoy spoke again.

"I can see you're very confused, Potter. Maybe it's time to make your mind up. You're positive you don't want to be with Mrs. Potter, right?" Harry nodded. "Good. You came here to have a new start, and you wanted your marriage to be part of the things you gave up on, even though it wasn't exactly necessary to do that to be able to start your business, right?" Again, Harry nodded, feeling like an idiot. "That leaves us with one last thing. When you said you wanted to take a break, did you say that to not hurt Mrs. Potter's feelings, or because you actually meant it?"

Harry shrugged, looking around the room yet again for help. Malfoy filtered out the right question to ask, and Harry knew he couldn't reply to the question.

"That's where the shoe pinches, isn't it Potter? This week, I need you to make a decision for yourself. You don't have to answer that question right now, you just need to find out if you still have feelings for your wife, hidden in your heart."

"What if I do?" Harry's eyes looked at the former Death Eater pleadingly.

"Then you'll have to face them. You can't ignore your own feelings, Potter."

"Didn't I make the wrong decision? What if I can't have her back?"

"You didn't make the wrong decision, Potter. If you hadn't left her, you'd still be annoyed by her presence and the anger you feel inside would overpower the small amount of love you still have for her. Try to face these emotions. Find out how you exactly feel. Then we'll go from there on."

"Okay," Harry replied hesitantly. Malfoy put away his notepad and the quill. He got up, finished his lemonade and then turned to Harry again.

"Thanks for having me, Potter. I expect you to be at the office next Saturday. If not, I'll come and get you."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Harry replied, getting up as well. He stood in front of the man, feeling awkward, not knowing how to strike an attitude. A warming feeling overtook him, reminding him yet again of the intense embrace they shared last time. Malfoy held out his hand, and Harry offered his stiffly. The slender fingers fit around his palm perfectly, and the warm hand felt nice against his.

Their hands remained locked, both men momentarily lost in each other's eyes. Harry quickly realized he was holding on to the taller man's hand longer than was necessary and let go, as if he was stung by it.

"I'll see you on Saturday. Don't forget, Potter," Malfoy saluted while stepping into Harry's fireplace.

"Malfoy's Manor," he shouted. Green flames rose and engulfed Malfoy's entire body. He started rotating and then he disappeared. Harry frowned at the mention of the Manor. Would Malfoy still live there? He could be visiting his parents as well. Harry settled for the last thought and returned to the couch, sitting down in his spot. The place where Malfoy had been seated was still dented. Harry tried to resist the urge, but then he leant forward burying his nose in the nubuck sofa. His olfactory organ was welcomed by the delicious fragrance of masculinity, almond and vanilla. Harry could feel his body tingle from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, and slowly became aroused while breathing in the scent.

Embarrassed by his own body, Harry ceased his actions and fled into the kitchen. Slowly, Harry's blood slowed down, and he cursed himself inwardly for letting himself go. Why was he acting so strange around Malfoy? Mafloy of all people. Merlin, he was going mental!

He sat down at the kitchen table and looked around. It was as clean as it could get. He'd cleaned the living room as well, and since the builders would be back tomorrow, it was no use cleaning downstairs. Harry sighed. With Malfoy and the workers gone, he started to feel lonely.

"_But when everything's gone quiet, doesn't your mind start to wonder? Don't you ever feel lonely?" _He heard Malfoy's soft voice in his head. His emerald orbs filled with tears, as despair washed over him. He buried his face in his hands on the kitchen table and let out a loud sob. "_I'm happy right now. Why can't anyone tell the difference?!" _

Harry wondered who it was that he was trying to fool. Ginny? Malfoy? His friends?

Or himself?

**To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10: Birthday Party

10  
The Birthday Party

"_Where there is love there is life."  
― Mahatma Gandhi_

It was Wednesday evening, and Harry hurried home. He still needed to shower and then head to the Burrow as fast as he could. The party had started at five o'clock, but Harry had training and couldn't leave earlier than five thirty. He hoped he would make it by six o'clock, or at least before half past six.

Adrenalin rushed through his veins as he got through his bathing routine in no time. This would be the first occasion to see Ginny again. However, that wasn't the only reason Harry dreaded going. He knew Molly would have heard from their temporary break-up, and he feared her reaction. She was probably so disappointed in him that she'd never want to see him again. At least, Harry would understand if she didn't. Moreover, Harry still hadn't spoken to his best friend, and Fred Junior's birthday party would be the perfect timing to handle that problem as well.

He dried himself off with a drying spell and quickly jumped into a tight fitting pair of black trousers, combined with an emerald blouse. He put on his favorite cologne and hurried into the living room. It was a quarter to six. He'd only be an hour late. Harry smiled, praising himself for preparing so quickly. He grabbed the present for Junior – Harry knew he already gave one, but he didn't want to turn up with empty hands – and then stepped into the fireplace. He preferred using the floo to travel, even though it always upset his stomach, because he hated Apparating.

Harry stepped out at the right chimney and looked around the Burrow. He still remembered the first time he'd been here. Everything had seemed so incredibly strange, but yet exciting. Even using the floo had been a whole adventure. With a cheeky grin on his face, he dusted off his robes. The house was still as stuffed as it was before. However, now that all the Weasley children had moved out, Molly and Arthur had saved some money to renovate the house a little, and demolish some of the superfluous chambers.

"Harry, dear!" Molly exclaimed, walking up to him. She dusted off his shoulders – that were as of this moment completely dust-free – and put his glasses straight, a motherly habit that never faded. Even though all her kids were grown-ups now, she still made sure they were doing okay.

"Hi, Molly. How are you?" Harry greeted, happy to see her. It had been a few months since he'd last seen his mother-in-law. A tight knot formed in his stomach as he thought of his relationship with Ginny, and what it would to the old lady.

"Oh, I'm great, just great. It's very busy right now, you see. Our little Fred Junior's already seven! Can you believe it Harry? Seven! Three more years to go and we'll be heading back to Hogwarts!" Her red curly hair was fading into grey and the wrinkles that only used to appear when she smiled rested on her face permanently. Nevertheless, she was still a pretty woman, and very vibrant for her age.

"Come on in the kitchen, that's where all the guests are. You can put your present on the table over there. Come, come," she gestured, starting to walk to the rather small kitchen. The small, but well-covered woman grabbed Harry's present and put it on the table, while Harry entered the noisiest room of the Burrow. The place was stuffed with people. Immediately, a smile appeared on Harry's face. It had been long since he'd seen all of the Weasley's together. At Rose and Hugo's birthday, Ron had refused to invite Percy, and at Roxanne's birthday Charlie had been occupied abroad, handling a Chinese Fireball.

However, at this very gathering the six Weasley kids and their families had all managed to free up some time. Harry greeted the oldest Weasleys and small talked – Charlie managed to capture Harry's attention a bit longer than Bill, informing him about his dangerous adventures with the Dragons – before making his way over to George.

"Hi. Congratulations," Harry smiled, slapping the older man's back friendly. Harry was glad the man was standing alone.

"Thanks, Harry. How are you holding up?" George replied. A plate with glasses of champagne was floating around the room, and Harry quickly grabbed one when it passed by, serving himself.

"Good, I guess. I haven't seen Ginny since that day, so …" Harry trailed off, looking around the room to spot the woman he used to share his bed with.

"It's going to be alright, Harry. I already told you. Ginny's doing great. I haven't seen her this busy and happy in a while," George replied, clearly happy about the situation. "I'm sorry," he quickly added when he saw how Harry's face saddened. The fact that he was the cause of her unhappiness stung. On the other hand, she was the cause for his lifelessness as well, so who was there to blame?

Harry glanced over to his wife, finally spotting her in the crowded room. Her dark red hair was hanging over her shoulders, small curls giving her coupe more volume. Blue eyes stared back at him, and a small smile crossed Harry's face. Ginny returned the smile, nodding at him and waving to come over.

"I think it's time to go. Wish me luck." Harry swallowed thickly before heading over to the only woman in the Weasley family. George just shook his head, looking at the duo in disbelief.

"I can't believe they can't tell how happy they are to be separated," he muttered to Angelina, who had stepped closer to him once Harry was gone.

"I think they just find it hard to let go. The heart is a strange thing, George," Angelina replied thoughtfully. George eyed his wife adoringly, then spoke again.

"Feelings change, sweetpie. The heart changes. They have grown up together, but still managed to grow apart. Maybe it's time for them to go their own way. They need to stop holding on to something that no longer exists."

"Wise guy," Angelina laughed, kissing her husband on the mouth. "I'm one hundred percent sure my feelings won't change for you, honey," she whispered in his ear. The couple shared another kiss, both oblivious to the rest of the family.

* * *

"Hi," Ginny greeted when Harry finally got to her. On his way there, Katie Bell had wanted to talk to him, catching up with each other's lives. After that, Percy had made his entrance, announcing himself in the pompous way he always did. He was glad to have reached his wife, and sat down next to her gratefully. He wasn't good in parties. He always felt out of place, like he was the one intruding when he was actually just invited. Harry knew he was as much a part of the family as anyone else, but the feeling never left.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny smiled, handing him over another glass of champagne. "Nice party, isn't it?" Good. Ginny was going to small talk. That was a nice way to start their conversation.

"Yeah. I'm glad everyone could make it. How's the therapy going for you?" Harry replied, plastering a smile on his face.

"It's going great, thanks. Malfoy's wonderful, you know. I never knew I would say this, but he's changed for the better. Being apart for a while made me realize how much I was missing out on. There are so many people that I wanted to keep in touch with, so many things that I still wanted to do. Somehow, I forgot about all that."

"Good," Harry replied, feeling odd. Ginny used to be the one begging him to stay, not throwing in a revelation like that. He knew that was the very reason why he'd suggested they'd live apart for a while, but right now, he couldn't take it. A boyish jealousy washed over him as he thought of Ginny, leading her life for herself. Wasn't this what he wanted? "I'm glad you're doing great, Ginny. I thought you'd never speak to me again," Harry said, to keep the conversation going.

"At first I didn't want to. But then I realized your courage, Harry. It's not easy to let go of something you've fought so hard for. Especially when you're not sure what's coming next. You're a brave man, having the guts to throw away all the certainty. I knew it was time for me to do the same."

"Don't try to flatter me, Ginny. I'm not happy with myself at all," Harry sighed, taking a large sip from his new glass. The longer he sat there, the more ill-at-ease he became.

"Don't be like that. I know you don't want to hurt me, Harry, but you can't go back now. I miss you, I really do, but not as much as I thought I would. At first I thought I'd never stop crying. Then I thought, if you can have fun, then I can too." Harry just gaped at his wife, overwhelmed by the energy radiating off her. This lust for life had always been a typical trait for Ginny. Somewhere along the way she had lost it. Right now, she was becoming herself again.

"Do you think we'll still get together?" Harry asked, surprised that he brought up that question. Before, he wouldn't even have taken the time to ask her that question, knowing the answer would be a hopeful _'yes we will, right Harry?'. _

"I don't know. Who knows what the future brings? I'm here with Dean, so it's all very exciting. Did you know he plays football in a Muggle footballclub? Amazing right?" Harry followed Ginny's admiring stare and saw Dean talking to Hermione. The man had grown a lot since Harry had last seen him. He was very muscular as well, and Harry couldn't help but feel a green wave of jealousy splashing over him.

"No I didn't," he replied tonelessly. It turned out Ginny didn't miss him at all. Why was it that nobody cared if he was feeling alright or not? When he decided to leave Ginny, all hell broke loose. Now Ginny's doing great on her own and everything's as thick as thieves. Admitted, Harry was happier as well, but why did he feel so jealous over Dean? Was it because he hadn't managed to make Ginny happy? Was it because he still loved her? Or was it because nobody loved _him_ anymore?

"You wouldn't believe how great he is, Harry. He and Seamus are still best friends, you know? You used to be close to Seamus, didn't you?" Ginny continued animatedly.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry replied. The longer the conversation lasted, the duller he felt, and he quickly excused himself. He exited the crowded kitchen and took a walk outside. The fields were quiet, and Harry tried to calm down again, creating a little space between him and the kitchen. What was happening to him? What had he done? He paced around the back yard, trying to set his mind to rights but failing to do so. The more he thought, the more confused he became.

"Brooding boy in the meadow," a familiar voice said. Harry's head shot up, looking to the area where the voice had come from. Malfoy was sitting on one of the benches, his long legs folded, eyes fixed on the Survivor. He was wearing a brown cashmere pullover, combined with cream pants.

"What are you doing here?" Harry exclaimed, more coarsely than he intended.

"I was invited to the Weasley's party, Potter. However, I didn't feel like I was in the right place, so I decided to enjoy the panoramic view instead of joining the party-animals." Malfoy looked around the grasslands with an admiring look, a peaceful aura surrounding him.

"Why have you been invited?" Harry asked bluntly. Honestly, he had no idea what Malfoy had to do with the Weasleys. Their families were arch-enemies. Besides, he felt a little busted, because he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts.

"For your interest, Potter, the Weaslette invited me here. Mrs. Weasley thought it'd be a great idea, since I helped you both forward." Harry quirked an eyebrow, surprised that Malfoy had respectfully named Molly by her rightful last name. However, the last sentence made him grind his teeth.

"Yeah, especially Ginny," Harry grunted, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Are you sulking because the Weaslette is having a good time?" Malfoy questioned, all-knowingly. The amused glint in his stormy eyes just pissed Harry off some more.

"You'd think after all this time you've spent together you'd start calling her by her _real _name, Malfoy," Harry fired back, avoiding the question.

"We don't call each other by our first names either, now do we?" Malfoy's grey eyes shone dangerously, and Harry remained silent. "You haven't responded to the question, Potter."

"How perceptive of you. What is this, another one of your sessions?" Harry barked. He stopped pacing around and eyed the former Death Eater with angrily.

"No. I just noticed how you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you completely overlooked me. When are you going to stop being such an imbecile, Potter?" Harry was pleased to hear that he was getting on Malfoy's nerves.

"I'm not an imbecile."

"Then stop acting like one," Malfoy whizzed, standing up from the bench. He stepped closer to Harry, his long figure hovering over the shorter man. Harry knew he was being a pain in the arse, but he didn't care.

"Why is it that every time you see me, you want to talk about my doomed relationship?" Harry fumed. He refused to give in to the Ice Prince.

"That's what you wanted to talk about right now, isn't it?" Malfoy questioned. His pink lips curled, forming a small grin. Harry was momentarily distracted by Malfoy's half-smile.

"No, er. I mean, yeah – but I didn't want to talk to you."

"Then leave." Malfoy's tone was firm, announcing the end of their conversation. Suddenly, Harry felt uneasy, not sure what to do. He didn't want to leave, at all.

"No. It's just. I hate that all of this is merely professional bullshit." Harry shrugged, looking everywhere but at Malfoy.

"It's not bullshit, Potter. And right now, it's not professional either." The man took another step closer. The distance between them was gradually decreasing. It made Harry nervous.

"Then why do you talk to me?" Harry looked up, observing the well-dressed man as he replied. The sun was shining on his blonde hair, giving it a golden gleam.

"Am I not allowed, perhaps?"

"Yes, but you're supposed to hate me," Harry continued stubbornly.

"I don't hate you, Potter." Malfoy whispered, his words barely audible above the soft wind. Harry's heart was beating against his chest. He knew Malfoy was probably joking around, still the words were very easy to believe.

"You don't?" Harry exclaimed, astonished.

"No." Harry remained silent, trying to process what Malfoy had just confessed. The response had affected him so much that he forgot to breathe for a moment. "Do you?" The blonde questioned.

"I don't think so."

"Great. What's bugging you?" Malfoy went straight to the point. Harry shrugged, hesitating to answer the question.

"Well actually, Ginny's moving on with her life, you see. And I'm just not moving. She and Dean are getting close, and all I have is my dumb project. She's so happy, and it's all my fault that she hasn't been this happy in a while. I feel such an idiot. A good-for-nothing."

"Potter. You should be happy that she's not holding you back. She's moving on, so are you. You worry too much. You'll find your perfect match, Potter. There's no doubt about that." Harry quirked an eyebrow at that last.

"What if Ginny was the one, and I let her slip away?"

"She's not the one for you, Potter. For Salazar's sake, you haven't experienced what it is to be loved, Potter. I can tell."This ruined Harry's mood. The last time he'd checked – or rather, a couple months ago – Ginny had been perfectly in love with him.

"Why are you so certain about it?" He grumbled. Harry had always feared that he wasn't loveable. Growing up with the Dursleys had made him realize some people didn't deserve love. He knew the Weasleys loved him with every piece of their heart, but that uncertainty never left. Especially not now that he was breaking up with Ginny.

"I can see it in your eyes," Malfoy whispered, taking another step closer. The tingling feeling in his stomach caused Harry to falter for a moment, just observing the way Malfoy's lips had formed those beautiful words, but then he fell back in his rant.

"Nobody loves me anymore, Malfoy. I have chased away all the good people in my life, including Ginny. The worst part is, they're all happy to be released from my grip. It's like they're trying to run as fast as they can!" Harry exclaimed.

"You're exaggerating, Potter. Shush," Malfoy whispered, his lips close to Harry's ear. Malfoy's hot breath tickled his ear, and sent a hot wave through his body. Their chests were only a few inches apart. An invisible magnet kept pulling Harry closer. His head turned a bit, facing Malfoy's pale face. Their eyes locked, slowly closing in on each other. Harry's eyes fluttered shut, but just when their lips were about to touch, he shot out of the trance, stepping away, alarmed.

"What were you trying to do, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed. Malfoy opened his eyes, utterly confused. Soon after, anger appeared in his grey orbs, a malicious pull around his mouth.

"Why do you have to screw everything up, Potter! Just relax for a moment, you moron!" Harry's cheeks reddened, embarrassment washing over him. What had just happened? Had they been trying to kiss? What if he hadn't pulled away? Harry looked at the man who was supposed to be his therapist, still backing away.

"J-just leave me alone," Harry stammered, hot tears appearing in his eyes. He didn't know why he was feeling so emotional all of a sudden, but he tried to hide his face. Malfoy's expression softened, stepping closer to him again.

"Don't come nearer!" Harry shouted, trying to scare the blonde away. However, the man kept coming, until Harry was standing against the wall, with no way out. Malfoy put his hands on either side of the shorter man, a determined look in his eyes.

"Just relax," he whispered. The words fell on Harry's lips. He parted them, a hungry desire overcoming him. He'd never felt like that before. Pink lips touched his red ones, pressing softly. Harry just let it happen for a moment, enjoying the way their lips fit together. Malfoy's vanilla scent hung around him like a soft cloud, the taste of his lips entering his mouth.

Malfoy broke the small kiss, hesitating for a second, but Harry quickly leaned forward, capturing the hot lips again. Both men were immersed by one another, and Malfoy seemed to be everywhere. The kiss deepened, and Harry buried his fingers in the blonde strands of hair. He forgot about his whereabouts, he forgot about Ginny. The only thing that mattered at this very moment was Malfoy, and his soft lips. Harry eagerly kissed the man back, holding him close. Malfoy slipped his tongue past Harry's lips and asked for entrance. Harry swooned, exploring the blonde's mouth. Malfoy's soft tongue brushed past Harry's. Malfoy's slender fingers caressed Harry's lower back and pulled Harry's hips against his own. Harry moaned against the touch, his heartbeat sped up.

The entire moment felt surreal to Harry, their kiss was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. How was is possible to share something so intense with someone else? His body was aroused, his head was in the clouds. After what felt like an eternity, but very ephemeral at the same time, their lips parted. Harry opened his eyes and looked up. Blonde eyelashes fluttered open, revealing two brilliantly silver orbs. Both men remained like that for a while, reliving the moment. Harry had never felt more at ease. The comforting feeling spreading through his veins felt like a hot shower after a long day at work.

"Wh-?" Harry stammered, but he was cut off by a furious voice.

"Harry! What do you think you're doing?" Ronald Weasley was standing in the backyard, paralyzed. His ears were crimson, a murderous glance in his eyes.

"Er, … Ron. I- er," Harry closed his mouth, not really sure what to say. Why did Ron have to see them? He'd come here to make sure things would go back to normal with Ron.

"Man, Harry. What is this? Some sort of sick joke? Is that why you're seeing bloody Malfoy as a _therapist. _To snog the living hell out of him when nobody's paying attention?!" Ron screeched. Harry looked at the ground. He was afraid someone inside would hear Ron lose his cool and he wanted to die right this moment.

"No. It's the first time this happened, Ron. I can't help it," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I don't care how many times you did it! Is this why you left Ginny? To be with this piece of scum? To be a bloody faggot?!" Ron stepped closer, his blue eyes threatening.

"Ron. Please calm down. Ginny's doing great, she's happy."

"I know that. I saw you leaving, so I figured she made you feel uncomfortable. I still wanted to apologize for everything that's happened, but then I see _this?_" Ron's eyes begged for Harry to say he was dreaming. To say it was all a joke. But harry averted his eyes, looking at the grassed surface again.

"I'm sorry Ron. It's my decision. If I want to kiss Malfoy, then you'll have to live with it." Ron looked at Harry like he'd just been kicked in the face. He opened his mouth to say something else, changed his mind and stormed back inside the house. Harry looked up at Malfoy.

"I forgot to say that I wanted to make up to Ron." Harry looked desperate, feeling completely lost.

"I'd give him some time, Potter," Malfoy advised.

"Sure. I don't even know what happened myself so, …" Harry said, trailing off.

"We kissed," Malofy seemed very confident, while Harry felt like fainting any moment now. His legs were wobbly and his heart was still beating painfully fast.

"I know, but why?" Harry replied.

"Because I felt like kissing you," Malfoy shrugged. Harry looked up at the taller man, feeling confused with the way things had turned out.

"But you're a guy," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

"Seriously, Potter? How daft are you? You needed to kiss me to realize I'm a man?" Malfoy stepped back, creating a bit of space between them again.

"No!" Harry grumbled. "It's just. I've never kissed a guy before." He just shrugged, not knowing what else to do with his body.

"You've probably never kissed anyone except the Weaslette," Malfoy sniggered.

"That's not true! I kissed Cho once," Harry bit defensively. He shot the former Slytherin an annoyed glance, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"That makes a lot of difference," Malfoy replied sarcastically.

"Whatever. I bet you haven't kissed _anyone _except that retarded Higgs. Hold on a second, weren't you two together?"

"No. We broke up two weeks ago." Two weeks ago, Malfoy had been at his place, taking the shower, Harry remembered.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're not my therapist, are you?"

"No. You could have told me. I've told you tons of personal stuff and you can't even inform me when you're single." Harry didn't know why he was making such a big deal out of it. He just felt like ranting again.

"Do you like that I'm available, perhaps." An adventurous gleam clouded Malfoy's eyes, a smile splitting his face in two.

"No, I don't!" Harry blurted. He crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively, trying to create a bigger distance between them.

"You're difficult, Potter. I broke up with Terence because of you." The words were spoken very softly, not louder than a whisper.

"Me?" Harry whispered, taken aback.

"Yes, Potter. _You. _Remember the day I slept over? That evening, we broke up."

"For me?" Harry brought out, still astounded by Malfoys confession. "That's – I don't know."

"Whatever you say, Potter. I broke up because I want _you." _Harry's heart was pounding so loud he was afraid Malfoy might hear it. "I like you. A lot."

"Oh," Harry replied, facing the ground. Malfoy's eyes were so sincere and he would lose himself if he kept looking into them.

"That's all you've got to say? Oh?"

"I'm not good at this, Malfoy," Harry retorted, looking up again. Malfoy was gazing at him expectantly, and Harry faltered. "I – er, … I don't know what to say. I- can't believe this is happening. I'm not sure what to think right now."

"But you thought it was okay?"

"Stop forcing me into this, Malfoy. I can still hex you, even though you kissed the living hell out of me!" Harry snapped. He didn't want Malfoy to know he'd been swept off his feet by the simple gesture of his lips. His entire world had been turned upside down, but the only thing Harry could think about was kissing those lips again. But he couldn't tell the man that, could he?

"That sounds better," Malfoy grinned. He gave Harry a peck on his cheek and started to march to the Burrow again. "Are you coming? You've got a lot of explaining to do in there!" Harry frowned, still confused by the sudden change of their relationship.

"What makes you think that?" Harry caught up with the man and quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"The Weasel," Malfoy replied.

"Stop calling my friends names, Malfoy."

"Or what?"

"I'll turn you into a pumpkin." Malfoy pulled a face, but Harry could see he was just faking for fun. Harry grinned, walking next to the man he'd hated for seven years. "I'm not sure what to think of you right now, Malfoy. I mean, we've hated each other for a long time, haven't we?"

"Hmm," Malfoy replied.

"And aren't you supposed to be my therapist?"

"I don't care what I'm supposed to be, Potter. I've wanted to kiss you for a very long time."

"Weird," Harry replied. At this, Malfoy pulled an eyebrow.

"I'm starting to think you don't really like kissing me, Potter. Was it that bad?"

"No, it's just- I'm not sure how to feel about all this."

"Give it some time," Malfoy replied, a soothing tone in his voice.

Harry looked up and smiled, the smile reaching his eyes. Who would have known that one simple kiss could change his state of mind so quickly? Harry kept smiling, unable to wash the content emotion off his face. Even though he was still very confused with the entire situation, he just gave in to his emotions, letting go of all his worries. Harry entered the Burrow, ready to face the world.

**To be continued…  
You know what to do!**


	11. Chapter 11: Broken Walls

**So, here we are again, yet another chapter. I want to thank all the followers, favorites and reviewers for their support! It's truly awesome and without the support I wouldn't have finished the story. I can already tell you there will be 13 chapters, so there are two more to come! Enjoy this for now! **

Chapter 11  
Broken Walls

"_If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain."  
― Emily Dickinson_

Harry turned around in his sleep, burying his face in his pillow. He was dreaming, dreaming very well for that matter. Harry found himself sitting in his comfortable black sofa, facing Draco Malfoy.

"I love kissing you, Potter," he whispered softly. Harry just gaped at him, unable to stop himself from coming closer to the man. He craved to feel his soft lips on his again. He moaned at the thought of it, pushing Malfoy over in a wave of excitement. Their lips clashed together, Harry lost himself in the moment. Harry crawled on top of the blonde, positioning his legs on either side of Malfoy's waist.

"What are you up to?" Malfoy questioned, a mischievous grin on his face. Harry merely laughed naughtily, then leaned in to capture the former Slytherin's lips again. Malfoy's slender fingers disappeared underneath Harry's shirt, making their way across his chest, caressing the sensitive skin. Harry moaned, arching his back in pleasure. He unbuttoned Malfoy's blouse, driven by passion. Malfoy willingly let Harry undo his clothing. Within seconds, Malfoy's pale porcelain chest was revealed. His pink nipples stood out brilliantly, and Harry leaned closer to catch one with his lips. He sucked the nipple until it was hard. Malfoy gasped for air, a deep moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

This only turned Harry on. He unzipped Malfoy's pants and slid it off his legs carefully. His long, strong legs were covered in white hair. Harry played with it for a while, then couldn't wait any longer and focused on the package, wrapped in Malfoy's boxer. Malfoy's grey eyes were dark with lust, waiting for Harry to continue. Harry slid his hand under the waistband of the black piece of clothing, before pulling it down. His hands fumbled with the pubic hair for a while, gently caressing the strands. Somehow, Malfoy's pubic hair was very silky as well. Then, Harry wrapped his hands around Malfoy's hardness, gently putting pressure on it. Malfoy threw his head in his neck, sighing in pleasure.

Malfoy smiled, leaning forward and pulling Harry down next to him. Harry's heart sped up, knowing what would come next. Malfoy unzipped Harry's pants, undid his boxers and then gently touched the base of his cock. Harry moaned silently, closing his eyes. Malfoy's hand disappeared, and Harry opened his eyes again, frowning.

He was lying in his own bed, but he wasn't alone. A few feet from him, Malfoy was eyeing him curiously. Harry froze in terror, not knowing what had happened. Had he just been dreaming? Or had this all been real, and – Harry stopped his train of thoughts, meeting Malfoy's gaze again. Amusement was written all over his face.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked impolitely. He was now very certain that he'd just had a hot dream about the person sitting in front of him, and the blonde was very aware of that fact.

"You should've secured your house, Potter. I already warned you about that."

"You broke into my house? How dare you come here?!" Harry exclaimed, anger trickling in his bloodstream.

"Shush, shush. Don't be like that. Be glad I'm not a burglar or a murderer. I could've killed you by now, you see." Malfoy seemed very satisfied with this whole situation, while Harry felt less and less at ease.

"Whatever Malfoy. I don't want you coming here without being invited." Harry glared at the blonde, sulking.

"That's not very kind of you, Potter. You'd say after sharing such an intimate moment with each other, we'd be a bit friendlier."

"Keep on dreaming, Malfoy," Harry growled. He crossed his arms in front of his chest to show his displease, his green eyes as murderous as Avada Kedavra.

"Come on, Potter," Malfoy grinned, ignoring Harry's warning and leaned closer. Harry crawled backwards, feeling alarmed, eyes wide in shock. Malfoy was now sitting ten feet closer, while Harry had his back against the headboard of the bed.

"Get off me!"

"Huh?" Malfoy brought out, confused by the whole situation. For a moment, it made Harry falter as well, but then reprimanded firmly: "Don't touch me, Malfoy."

"But, you- I mean, we kissed, didn't we?" Malfoy's grey eyes were clouded with confusion. He seemed utterly lost in the conversation, but Harry ignored the man's body language.

"Yeah," Harry huffed. The longer Malfoy was inside his bedroom, the more distant Harry became. The man shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have intruded Harry's privacy. He shouldn't have scared the hell out of him.

"Why did you kiss me?" Malfoy asked prudently.

"I don't know. Because you did, I guess," Harry replied, frowning. He pulled the covers a little closer, feeling very exposed, lying half-naked in his bed. Even though the ardor had left his body, Harry could still feel the aftermath, and was clearly embarrassed by it.

"But you liked it?" Malfoy questioned. Uncertainty flashed in his eyes, denting the mask he was wearing. Harry ignored it, not sure what to think of everything that happened at the Weasleys's.

"That doesn't matter, Malfoy. I don't want you here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That means, get the hell out of here. I don't know what happened before, but I'm sure it's not going to happen again." Harry wrapped the covers around his torso like a girl, and stood up from the bed as well, facing up to the taller blonde.

"Don' t be silly. I can read you like a book Potter. I can tell you're just pissed because I caught you in the middle of your sexual moment." The comment stung like a bee.

"So what?"

"Don't try to pretend you're not attracted to me." Malfoy sensed he was winning the conversation, a smug grin appearing on his face. This only worsened Harry's mood.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are. You were all over me from the very moment you entered my office Potter. I know you're into me." Malfoy took a step closer, cornering Harry between the wall and the bed.

"Get lost." Harry embraced his covers, trying to protect himself from Malfoy.

"Maybe-"

"I SAID: GET LOST!" Harry screamed, his temper rising uncontrollably. He jumped on the bed, creating more space between them, breathing heavily. Malfoy's eyes darkened, and he turned around swiftly.

"Fine. If you're going to be like that, fine," he replied coldly. And with a wave of his coat, he disappeared. Harry watched him leave, his breathing still heavy. When he was finally alone, Harry realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry," he whispered to himself. "That's not what I meant." Harry shook his head. What was wrong with him? Was he too scared to make a commitment to Malfoy? Was it because his friends wouldn't approve? Harry lied down on his bed again. To say he wasn't into Malfoy had been _the_ understatement since Fudge had stated Voldemort wasn't back, in Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. However, something about the kiss they shared had scared him. It'd been so sincere. So intense, but yet so innocent.

All the excitement from his dream had completely vanished. With a dreadful feeling in his stomach, Harry got up from his bed and started his day.

* * *

Harry was waiting on the terrace of Florean Fortescue, a damping cup of camomile tea standing on the table. George would arrive any minute now, since he'd asked the redhead to come here as soon as he could. It'd been an hour since Malfoy left. The jokeshop opened at 10 a.m. so Harry'd called the owner to an urgent meeting.

"Hi Harry. What's the matter?" George asked. He took the seat in front of Harry, a worried expression on his face.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you this early, George. I just couldn't handle it myself you see." Harry was fumbling with his mug, turning it around.

"It's okay, Harry. I don't mind coming here. What's happened? Is it the training?" George speculated.

"No, no. Yesterday, at Junior's party – something odd happened. I met Malfoy."

"Yeah, Ginny invited him, because she's grateful. She wanted him to meet mother. I don't know why exactly, though. Why would someone want to introduce her mother to her therapist?" George smiled genuinely, shrugging as he spoke.

"Well, that's not why I asked you to come here. It's – I don't know how to say it – I kissed him."

"Who? Malfoy?" George asked, quirking an eyebrow. Harry nodded. He prepared himself for the storm, but George just smiled again.

"I didn't know you were into guys, Harry. Since when did you fancy Malfoy?" George seemed to find the newsflash rather amusing, while Harry felt more and more uncomfortable.

"I don't fancy him. It just happened. I'm not sure what to think of it, actually." Being unable to make out for himself what he felt was driving Harry crazy. George's words didn't help so far.

"Well, me neither. Did you like it?" The waiter came and George ordered a coffee. The man looked at Harry, but he just pointed to his mug of tea and the clerk was on his way again.

"Er,…"

"Harry come on! How old are you? You can just tell me what you think of it, I won't judge. Honestly, I just didn't know you were into guys," George replied with a toothy grin. He seemed to be very relaxed about the whole situation, while Harry's nerves were practically consuming him entirely.

"I liked it. But then I pushed him away – kind of." Harry sipped his tea, nearly burning his lips and cursed inwardly. Hermione always made them drinkable.

"O-okay, … How did Malfoy react? Was he angry?"

"No. He seemed confused. But confident. He showed up at my door this morning. He wanted to do it again."

"But?" George encouraged him to continue.

"I kinda scared him away." The waiter brought George his coffee. He added milk and sugar and took a first sip a frown appearing on his forehead.

"Kinda?"

"I told him to get lost." Harry looked down at his jeans, lost in his thoughts. Why did he have to overreact? Why had he been so angry with Malfoy's presence?

"Why did you do that Harry? Did you want him to go?" George's questions kept coming, and Harry felt all the more stupid.

"I don't know." Right now, he felt sorry for pushing the man away.

"Good. I'm starting to think you don't know a lot of things, Harry. Make up your mind for once. You kissed Malfoy. One, he's a guy. Two, he's your therapist. Three, he's your former enemy." George was counting on his fingers, holding them up to Harry.

"I know all of that."

"What are you going to do with that information? Do you like Malfoy?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged, and averted his gaze again. He felt like an idiot.

"Please, Harry. I'm trying to help you out here." George was losing his patience as well. Harry sighed, ploughing through his own mind again to try and find an answer.

"I've been thinking about him a lot lately. I mean, when he's not around and such." George immediately jumped onto this new lead and replied.

"Thinking about him. What do you think of then? Him as your therapist?"

"No-" Harry hesitated. "Him as my potential boyfriend," he confessed. He knew it was no use denying anything in front of George. Unlike Ron, he wouldn't jump to conclusions and start a fight about it, only because it involved Malfoy.

"Good. That explains why you responded to the kiss, right? Great. Why did you blow him off, earlier today? Was it because you didn't want it to happen again or because you were just scared about the whole new situation?" George seemed to know what he was doing.

"I'm not sure. I feel very bad for scaring him away. I'll go with the second thing you said."

"You're scared. That's very normal, Harry. It's a whole new situation. You're discovering a whole new part of yourself. Trying to grasp that you love someone isn't easy, especially not when you've just made the hard decision to leave your wife. The fact that it's a guy doesn't make it any easier. Him being your former enemy makes it all the more confusing." George finished his coffee, and flashed Harry a reassuring smile.

"Thanks, George. You really know how to deal with this stuff."

"It's easier when you aren't standing in that person's shoes. However, what are you going to do now? I'm sure you pissed Malfoy off."

"I don't know."

"Harry! I'll curse you so badly that you won't be able to say those three words ever again, do you understand?" George bit, but Harry could tell he didn't really mean it.

"I guess I did piss him off. He was very angry when he left."

"What are you going to do about it? How will you make up to him?"

"Er… That's a difficult one. I can't just show up and say I'm sorry. I'm not ready to kiss him again just yet. Oh, besides. I forgot to tell you Ron saw us kissing at the Burrow."

"Ron? What did he do?"

"He didn't take it well. I told him that if I wanted to kiss Malfoy, it's my decision and he would have to live with it."

"That's very wise of you, Harry." George had an admiring look in his eyes. Harry felt a wave of pride wash over him before the painful truth pulled him back with his two feet on the ground.

"But I'm sick of fighting with him. Lately, all we do is calling each other names and trying to make up. We fail miserably each time."

"To put it in a nutshell, you need to make up with two people: Ron and Malfoy. And we still have the whole Ginny situation to deal with."

"George! Really? I'm not ready. I don't even know what kind of feelings I have for Malfoy."

"Harry. Please. If you're thinking of him as your boyfriend, you _want _him to be your boyfriend. It's as simple as that. Admit to yourself that you love him. If you don't, you won't be able to admit it to anyone else."

"Are we done now?"

"You were the one who called me here, saying it was an emergency!" George reprimanded.

"I know, I know. I just feel like a bloody idiot all the time. You're so confident and wise about all that stuff, and here I am, stammering like a child and not knowing what kind of emotions I'm dealing with."

"Love is a strange thing, Harry. I have to admit that I'm surprised you and Malfoy kissed. But at the same time, the two of you always had some kind of chemistry."

"Chemistry? Seriously, what is this? Some kind of a cheap romantic movie?" Harry joked.

"Your tea's getting cold," George replied, a fake-angry frown rippling his forehead.

"You're great, George. Thank you for _everything. _Man, there's so many things you've done for me, and I haven't done anything back." Harry sipped his tea, reheating it a bit with a heating spell and eyed the Redhead guiltily.

"Oh, but you will, Harry. You will."

* * *

Harry knew George had been right about everything, but still he didn't feel ready to start fraternizations just yet. He had given Hermione a quick call, and was heading to their home right now. He was glad she was able to make some time for him. She had every right to know what had happened, and Harry preferred talking to her at this very moment, as compared to talking to a certain blonde.

Hermione was already waiting for him when Harry entered through the fireplace.

"Hi Harry. What happened?" Hermione got straight to the point. She was sitting in the brown leather coach, tapping the seat next to her.

"Hi Hermione. How are you?" Harry replied dryly. He took the seat next to her, a smile on his face.

"I'm good, but what's wrong?" Her worried tone made Harry relax. It was nice to have someone being worried about you.

"Why would there be something wrong?"Harry questioned. He had tried to hide his confusion about Malfoy, but his best friend saw straight though him.

"I can tell, Harry. Besides, you didn't even take the time to come talk to me yesterday, at the party. Did something happen with Ginny?"

"Yeah. Well, I already talked about it to George. Malfoy brought it up during our last session as well. You know, I'm happy for her that she's moving on. But at the same time, it feels like I have always been holding her back or something. It feels like I'm the one who's made her as miserable as she was and that, now that she's out of my grip, she's all happy and shiny again."

"Oh, Harry. Here, have something to drink." Hermione conjured two glasses of milk, a motherly look in her brown eyes. Harry pulled an eyebrow, not sure why Hermione would offer him milk, but he drank it nevertheless."You don't have to think like that, Harry. It's not your fault your marriage didn't work out. You both tried very hard in making it work, but for some reason it wasn't meant to be."

"I know that. But why do I feel so bad about it?"

"That's very normal. Your heart needs some time to let it go. You need to give Ginny a place in your heart, a new spot where she can fit in. Right now, you're just too confused about her because you're not sure what function she has in your life. I am living proof that you two are better off alone, Harry. And that comes straight from my heart."

"Thanks, Hermione. Malfoy said something along those lines. I just need some time to figure out how I actually feel about her. I was really jealous of Dean at the party, you know."

"You were for all the right reasons. He's wonderful, and he's good for her. I know you can sense that, and you feel of less value because of it. But don't ruin it for her. Let her discover the world again. She'll do the same for you."

"Waaw. I don't think you got that out of a book, right?" Hermione blushed under the compliment, waving it away with a goofy smile. She took a sip from her milk, wiping away the small mustache it left behind.

"Stop it, Harry. What else is bothering you? I thought Ron would try to make it up with you at the party. At least, that's what he told me. Something was up with him today, though. He's gone out with the kids."

"Oh," Harry replied, realizing it was very quiet in the house. "Well, there is something else. Ron caught me while I was kissing Malfoy," Harry confessed. The woman nearly spilled her glass.

"Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy?"

"Do you know anyone else with that name, 'Mione?" Harry replied rolling his eyes. He drank his own drink, wanting to have something to do with his hands. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting from Hermione. He'd thought she'd be like: _"I've always known you two would get together."_

"You kissed him?" Hermione seemed to have magically transformed into Ron, when it came to conversing. Harry knew it must be a shock, hearing your _male _friend kissed his _male arch enemy. _

"Yes. And I scared him away as well."

"Hold on a second. I don't understand. What made you kiss him? Are you in love with him?"

"Er... It just happened, you see." Harry was beating around the bush, not sure what to say.

"You don't just kiss someone Harry. I've known you long enough to know that it takes a long time for you to go first base with someone you're in love with. Answer the question."

"I don't know, Hermione. I - I think I am in love with him. George already spoke to me about it and he made me realize I did. Everything's messed up, Hermione. I'm confused all of the time. Ron's angry with me, Malfoy thinks I hate him right now, and Ginny - I don't even know where to start."

"You love him?!" Hermione seemed to have stopped listening after that revelation. "Oh Harry! I knew this would happen! – _What did I say?! – _ I always suspected you to have a soft spot for him at Hogwarts. Ron used to just say you wanted to snatch him while doing something evil, but I always thought there was more to it. You couldn't stop thinking about him. But well, then Ginny came in the picture and I forgot about all that. I can't believe it's happening right now," Hermione beamed with happiness.

"Wait a minute. You thought I fancied Malfoy in Hogwarts?" Harry was the one being confused now.

"Yes," Hermione replied sheepishly. "You mean you didn't?" Her enthusiasm drifted away, disappointment overtaking her features.

"No! I mean - I don't know. I don't think I did." Harry grunted. Why were there so many things he didn't know? He cursed himself again, still not sure if he'd ever been in love with the blonde.

"You just said you didn't know whether you love Malfoy now, so that's not something to be taken seriously right? The most important thing is that you admitted it. So, Ron saw you. That's why he's been acting weird all day. If you want, I could talk to him, you know."

"No, no. He had the decency not to tell anyone, so I want to handle it on my own. But I'm so busy right now that I'm not even able to think about what I'm going to do next, let alone bring it to action."

"He'll come around. He always does." Hermione seemed very relaxed about the whole situation, while Harry was getting more and more worked up.

"Not when it concerns Malfoy. He won't be happy with this."

"It's not up to him to decide, it's up to you. What everyone else thinks is unimportant. You didn't let us withhold you from breaking up with Ginny, did you?"

"You're right." Harry finished his glass, already feeling a lot better. Hermione had some strange kind of way to make him all confident and happy again.

"You won't let Ron stop you from getting together with Malfoy."

"Are you planning on becoming my cheerleader?" Harry giggled. He handed his empty glass over to the woman again.

"No, why?" Hermione asked, not understanding Harry's joke.

"No reason. I just didn't expect you to be in favor of me dating Malfoy."

"I'm in favor of everything that makes _you _happy, Harry. Besides, I've always said Malfoy wasn't a bad kid. Now you've finally figured that out. And he's handsome."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

"What?"

"You're married."

"Yes I am married, not blind! Am I not allowed to look at handsome men anymore?"

"I just – didn't see you as someone to look out for handsome guys."

"You're not bad yourself Harry. The two of you would made a good couple."

"I don't recognize you anymore." Hermione merely laughed, sending the empty glasses to the sink. They sat for a while in silence, both enjoying the harmony in the room.

"I'm glad to have you back, Harry."

"Me too. I can see you've listened to my advice as well. You're looking great."

"That's sweet. Thanks for stopping by. I always enjoy your company."

"I'm the one to thank you." Harry smiled, the curly haired woman returning it instantly. He leaned forward and embraced the girl, momentarily reminding the scene in his second year, where Hermione came running down the Great Hall and hugged him tight. He smiled fondly, glad he still had this wonderful person in his life.

There was only one person missing. Ronald Weasley.

**To be continued…  
Reviews are ALWAYS welcome ^_^**


	12. Chapter 12: Reconcilement

**A massive thank you to everyone who's been loyally following this story so far! I'm so happy with all the reviews. The end is near, only two chapters to go! Enjoy chapter 12**

Chapter 12  
Reconcilement

"_How incredibly far our lives drift from where we knew with all certainty they would go. How little today resembles what yesterday thought it would look like."  
― Jim Beaver, Life's That Way: A Memoir_

Draco struggled through his working week. It was very difficult for him to focus on the couples, trying to get their relationship back on track, while his mind continually thought about Potter.

Stupid Potter. Annoying Potter. Potter who had kissed him in the most perfect way possible, perfect like everything the Boy Who Lived did, but then – then he had shut himself down. Draco wasn't a fool. He knew when feelings were mutual, and in Potter's case they were. But he only wondered when that would get through his thick skull.

Draco sat down on his bedside. He'd already changed into his pajamas and faced the light green wall. Right now, he wished he'd never left Terence. The man hadn't deserved what Draco had done to him. He'd left him hanging. What they had hadn't been perfect, but at least Terence had the decency to face his feelings and to be honest with Draco. Not like Potter.

_Potter_.

Draco lied down on his bed, alone. He never liked being alone. Even when he was a kid, he'd preferred having another sibling. Someone to share his childish beliefs with. Narcissa had always been a great mother, but adults couldn't get children as much as their peers. Terence had always felt like a close friend to him. Even though he'd made love with that close friend more than a couple of times, it had never been passionate. It had never been as described in books. Draco had started to believe that what couples experienced in books was just a fantasy. He'd settled for less. He'd settled for Terence.

Oh Terence. Why couldn't he be more like Potter? Potter was so indefinable. Sincere. Unknowing. Strong. Masculine. It wasn't Terence's fault that Draco had a soft spot for the raven-haired Survivor. Draco knew he should've stayed with Terence, regardless his feelings for the Chosen One. But wasn't that rude? Wasn't that hurtful to Terence? He was such a good guy, he deserved someone who could cherish him to its fullest. Not like Draco. Draco had only used him in high need. He turned to him when there was no one left to turn to, and that had been a mistake. Even though he had never intended on comparing Terence to Potter, it was inevitable as soon as Potter came back into his life. Nobody could compare to him.

Nobody was as beautiful. Persistent. Stubborn. Foolish. Hot-tempered. Draco, being a therapist, had known instantly that he couldn't resist the man. Potter had just popped his head into Draco's office, that same evening, Terence and he had a fight. They didn't fight very often, but as of that moment, it nearly happened every day. Draco knew their relationship wouldn't last. He ended it, knowing his feelings for Potter would only hurt Terence in the long run. He'd never be able to suppress those emotions. With Potter, everything was more intense. Passionate. Desirable.

Draco turned around in his bed, pushing back the covers. He couldn't get to sleep. He couldn't stop his mind replaying the scene with Potter all over again. It had been so tragic. Draco had to admit Potter had really hurt his feelings back there. Still, he found himself unable to hate the man. Unable to reproach him. He just wanted him back.

Like the way it was at the birthday-party. The meadow. The sun. It had been perfect. And maybe if the Weasel hadn't showed his head, none of this bullshit would be happening. Maybe he'd be sharing the bed with Potter now, caressing the black strands of hair. Potter's head would be resting on his chest, his strong arms wrapped around his waist. His glasses would be on the bedside table and Draco would lift the man's chin, pulling him in for a long kiss.

Draco sighed. He was fooling himself. He'd messed everything up. He tried to calm himself down again, forcing himself to get some rest. Just when he was about to drift off, an unsettling thought popped in his head.

What if he was misinterpreting the signs? What if Potter _really_ didn't like him? Shock made room for sadness as Draco's eyes began to tear up. A tear trickled down Draco's face, resting on the edge of his chin before falling onto the covers. What if he didn't feel mutual about this situation?

What if Potter still _hated_ him?

* * *

Harry sat down in the comfortable white sofa, facing the blonde that had been scared away last Saturday. The Survivor hadn't been sure whether to come today, since they didn't have a session the week before. Still, he'd given it a shot – he was still unsure why he had come – and right now, he was facing the perfect mask of Draco Malfoy.

"So, Mr. Potter. Have you been able to put your thoughts in the right order?" Malfoy's tone was cold, his face blank.

"Drop the Mister. I don't like that. And as a matter of fact I have." Harry met the grey gaze, trying to see through his thick walls, but soon gave up. There was no way he could pull that mask down.

"How wonderful. Inform me about it," Malfoys voice sounded unnaturally professional. The sentences he used were as stereotype as they could get, and Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, a cold feeling downing on him.

"Are you going to be like this all hour?" Harry asked, not mincing his words.

"Like what? Is there something wrong, Potter?" Malfoy replied smoothly, his face expressionless.

"Yes there is! You're acting like a moron!" Harry exclaimed, standing up from the couch in frustration. He shot the slender man a challenging look, daring him to pick up the fight he was unleashing. Malfoy remained calm.

"I'd prefer it if you'd sit down again, Potter. I don't want to talk on higher decibels right now." He didn't even move from where he was seated. He just looked up, uninterested and then looked down at his notepad again.

"Talk on higher decibels? Seriously? What are you, an alien?" Harry felt his temper rising uncontrollably, affected by Malfoy distant behavior.

"Please, Potter. Answer the previous question."

"I'm fine. I've got it all figured out, thank you very much." Harry sat down in the sofa again, feeling like he was exaggerating.

"Good. So are you deciding on divorcing your wife?" Malfoy kept scribbling stuff down, while Harry tried not to unleash the animal raging inside him.

"We'll work that out personally. We're still adapting to the lives we have now. Divorcing is not in our schedule right now."

"Excellent. As I see it, there is nothing more to do. I will see this as our last appointment. Is that fine with you, Potter?" The blonde was already gathering his stuff, packing up.

"Whatever you want," Harry replied, baffled. He had no idea why Malfoy was acting so strange – actually he had a hunch that it was caused by Harry's morning rage – but having a personal fight didn't mean he had to be so _unprofessional _by trying to act professional.

"Great. Have a nice day, Mr. Potter." The former Slytherin got up and walked to his suitcase, completely ignoring Harry.

"Malfoy? Can I ask you something?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. There's someone else in the waiting room." That was the silliest excuse he'd ever heard.

"Our hour isn't over yet. Besides, there's never been someone behind me. Why are you like this?" Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, ready to stand his ground.

"I don't know, Potter. Maybe because you are such an insufferable git?" Malfoy's mask shattered into pieces when his anger submerged. Realization downed on Harry – his hunch had been right. Malfoy seemed really affected by his behavior and guilt took the better part of him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened last week, Malfoy. I – I enjoyed kissing you. I'm just not good at this," Harry admitted. Instantly, Malfoy's anger evaporated into thin air.

"Do you mean that?" The blonde turned around, looking into Harry's eyes for the first time that morning.

"Yes," Harry replied. He felt like running out of the room, but he stayed put. He needed to face his feelings. So far, Malfoy had taken all of this incredibly well, so it was Harry's time to bite through the sour apple.

"Do – Do you really like me?" Harry had never seen Malfoy so insecure. He looked extremely vulnerable, a fragility he hadn't noticed in the man before. The only thing Harry could do was be honest.

"Yes. It's not easy to admit, but yes." This seemed to lighten Malfoy's mood.

"Salazar's grief. You're difficult Potter," Malfoy muttered walking over to him.

"I know. Sorry," Harry replied sheepishly. He faced the ground, not sure what to do next.

"Come here, Potter," Malfoy said, standing only a few inches from him.

"Why?" Harry was still afraid Malfoy would kick him in the nuts for blowing him off like that. Malfoy didn't seem to notice his distrust.

"So I can kiss the living hell out of you." Harry's heart skipped a beat, then he leaned forward. Their lips met, and instantly Harry knew he'd been a fool all this time. How could he have wanted to push this man away? He was perfect in every single way. Harry submissively sat down on the couch, Malfoy took his position on top of him.

"There are so many things I'd like to do to you, Potter," Malfoy hissed huskily. Harry bent forward again, capturing the blonde's lips greedily. He fumbled with the buttons on Malfoy's blouse, trying to undo them as swiftly as he could. Malfoy observed him with a patient and amused smile on his face.

"Take your time, Potter," Malfoy whispered. Immediately, Harry turned as red as a tomato. In consequence of that, he was even more unable of opening the tiny buttons. They kept slipping between his fingers. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry just ripped his blouse open, the buttons scattered around the room.

"Potter! That's my favorite shirt, idiot!" Malfoy screeched.

"Shut up, Malfoy. You can fix it afterwards," Harry growled, his voice deep with lust. He bent forward again, kissing the exposed porcelain skin. Malfoy's body tasted almond and smelled like vanilla, the sweet scent mingling with the delicious taste. It drove Harry crazy. He'd never felt like this before. He felt like he would explode any minute, too many emotions swirling around in his mind. But just when he was about to lose it, Malfoy's long fingers caressed his cheeks, making him look up.

"You okay?" he asked. Harry nodded, leaning in for another kiss. Malfoy broke the kiss again, looking down at the green-eyed man worriedly.

"You sure?" He seemed sincerely worried about him, and that moved Harry. He'd never known Malfoy to be so sensitive.

"I'm not good at this, that's all."

"Not good? Man, Potter. I've never been kissed like that before, you know," Malfoy confessed. They sat down next to each other. A goofy grin split Harry's face in two, thinking about what Malfoy had just said.

"Better than Higgs?"

"Way better. I hope I'm better than the Weaslette. Or am I misinterpreting your body language as well?"

"Hey! Watch your tongue, Malfoy. Don't use the sessions against me, prick."

"Hush, hush. You're a whining crybaby."

"I'll teach you what a crybaby's like," Harry growled. He pushed Malfoy over and crawled on top of him. He buried his nails into Malfoy's skin softly, earning a moan from the blonde. He then sucked a pink nipple, licking it gently. Malfoy was curling underneath him, gasping and moaning. Harry then started tickling his sides, an evil smile crossing his features.

"Ticklemonster's here." Harry laughed out loud, letting out a cry of victory when he found Malfoy's ticklish spot. The blonde shrieked, barking out hysterical fits of laughter and gasping for air.

"Come on Potter! Cut it out! No – Aargh," Malfoy curled around like a fish out of water, trying to escape from underneath Harry. Malfoy bucked up his hips, pushing his erection into Harry's. instantly, the latter froze, looking down into molten silver. Arousal grew in both men's eyes. Malfoy switched positions throwing Harry on the couch and undoing his pants.

"Payback time, baby," he hissed. Harry giggled, curling around trying to escape from Malfoy's revenge. However, he didn't put in a lot of effort. Malfoy caressed Harry's abdomen, his fingers trailing down onto Harry's legs. The blonde caressed Harry's inner thighs, a mischievous grin in his eyes. Harry threw his head back, a moan sounding in the back of his throat. Malfoy kept repeating his motion, carefully avoiding the growing package.

"Please, stop teasing me," Harry whimpered.

"I haven't even started, Potter." With those words, Malfoy pulled down Harry's pants, revealing dark curls and –

"Don't do that!" Harry gasped, trying to cover himself.

"Potter, please. Don't cover yourself. You're beautiful." Harry's head went crimson, feeling like an idiot. Malfoy gently took his hands that were hiding his erection. Malfoy then looked down at Harry, taking him in completely, from tip to toe.

"You're the most beautiful man on this planet, Potter," Malfoy whispered, eyes resting on his green orbs. "Take off your glasses, will you?" Harry put his glasses on the coffeetable, still not feeling very at ease. He'd never been naked in front of anybody. When he and Ginny used to have sex, they usually did it in a dark room, under the covers.

"Can I take your clothes of?" Malfoy nodded, a half-smile crossing his face.

"I'm yours," he responded. Harry sat up, unzipping Malfoy's dark brown pants. He stripped it down with a little difficulty, because the jeans were so tight. Harry accidentally pulled down Malfoy's boxers as well, revealing three inches of blonde hair. Harry looked at the confident man sitting next to him, slender but strong legs folded up, long inguinal lines pointing at the blonde curls. His chest rose and fell steadily, pink nipples matching his pink lips. There was also a pink blush on the man's cheeks. Blonde eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, covering the most beautiful eyes Harry had ever seen. They shone brightly, unlike the dark grey and cold eyes Lucius Malfoy had. They had the most beautiful shade of silver, framed with blonde eyebrows and a long pony covering the man's forehead.

Harry sighed, taking in the pointy features for a bit longer, before leaning over to take off his last piece of clothing. The sight of Malfoy's penis made Harry flinch for a moment. After a while, he started breathing again, taking in all of Malfoy. They both lied down on the couch, next to each other. Their clothes were scattered on the beige carpet, but both men only had eye for one another.

"I love you, Malfoy," Harry whispered.

"I love you too, Harry Potter," Malfoy replied. He leaned forward, wrapping the raven-haired man in a close embrace. "I always have." The words fell on Harry's ears, as warm as a summer breeze, as soft as a bed of roses. "I always have."

* * *

Draco woke up, feeling unusually warm and comfortable. He turned around in the bed, burying his head in his pillow, when all of a sudden his pillow _moved. _Draco frowned, still too tired to open his eyes. The pillow smelled like strawberries, which was very odd, because Draco's pillow had never smelled like that before. At last, Draco opened one eye. The room he found himself in wasn't familiar, and the pillow he was lying on was in fact Harry Potter.

Gradually, all Draco's memories trickled back into his head, and a smug grin crossed his face. He laid his head back down again, cheerfully snuggling into the big warm mass lying next to him. Potter was still soundly asleep. Draco's smile seemed glued to his face. Still feeling very sleepy, Draco thought back about Saturday.

_°°-°°-***_Flashback_***-°°-°°_

Draco was sitting in front of Potter at an Italian diner. He'd never been here before, since it was a Muggle restaurant that Potter had picked out. He eyed the place cautiously, feeling a bit uncomfortable because he hadn't eaten in a Muggle place before.

"They serve the most delicious spaghetti here," Potter grinned, sitting down in one of the comfortable red seats. The restaurant was very modern and inviting, and Draco found it difficult to find something to criticize.

"I'll take whatever you take."

"The lasagna's very good as well, Malfoy. Have a look for yourself. Next time, you can choose the place." Draco smiled a crooked smile, watching Potter licking his lips as he studied the menu. This meant here would most certainly be a next time.

"I'd take you to the most fancy place there is."

"Oh, I'm sorry your Highness, I like to eat where the food is _delicious _and where I'll know _what _it is exactly that I'm eating. I don't fancy fish eggs or duck or anything like it," Potter snapped, but Draco could tell he didn't mean it.

"I'm teasing you, Potter. In fact, this is the perfect place to have our first date. There aren't many wizards here, so it won't be all over the Daily Prophet."

"Oh, right. For a second I forgot about those people. Well, in fact I stopped reading the paper years ago for that very reason," Potter shrugged. The waitress came for their orders.

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

"For me Ice Tea, please," Potter said. Draco shifted in his chair, his uncomfortableness returning within second in front of the Muggle. The lady turned to him.

"For me too," Draco replied coldly. The lady nodded once and wrote it down on her block and then looked up again.

"And to eat?" She looked at Potter first.

"Spaghetti, please," Potter said, handing her the menu.

"For me too," Draco replied again. The waitress took off and Draco took a deep breath. "I always feel like they're staring at me," the blonde grumbled.

"I don't think that has anything to do with magic," Potter noted dryly. Draco quirked an eyebrow, then got the hint. "Excuse me? I don't want _any _Muggle hitting on me, thank you very much!" he exclaimed, flabbergasted. Potter merely giggled, and the waitress came back with their drinks. When she left again Potter roared with laughter.

"You should see your face," he breathed, taking a sip from his ice tea.

"You should've seen your face when I was lying naked next to you," Malfoy fired back, a flickering in his grey eyes. At this, the Boy Who Lived turned crimson, a dark blush creeping up his face.

"So what?" he brought out silently. "You're beautiful." Draco eyed the man adoringly, feeling how every single part of his body heated up. It was as if his heart was blowing bubbles and they popped against his chest softly.

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter," Draco grinned. He could see Potter was bad at accepting compliments as he fidgeted under the table. "Relax, Potter. I won't eat you. Yet," he added with a deep voice. Emerald orbs shot up, a mixture of shock, amusement and lust clouding them.

"Stop it, Malfoy. We're in a public place," Potter hissed. Draco just rolled his eyes, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He hadn't expected Potter to confess his love for him this morning. As a matter of fact, he'd already given up on him. It had been too difficult and too painful to keep trying to get Potter's attention when he only pushed him away afterwards.

But then, in the office, they'd shared the most intimate moment Draco had in his entire life. Potter had been lying next to him, naked to the bone. They'd caressed each other and talked for what seemed like hours and hours. They hadn't really mentioned a lot of serious stuff, they'd just been joking around, teasing each other. Draco thoroughly enjoyed being around Potter. At noon, they'd collected their clothes and Potter had asked him out.

Draco chuckled. The fact that Potter was the one to ask him out had surprised him. The man really wasn't good at it, falling over his words and turning red while he spoke. Still, it was incredibly cute and Draco just couldn't resist. They had met up here, in this diner. Their spaghetti arrived, and both men started eating in silence. Draco couldn't believe his twist of fate. Everything seemed to fall into place, with Potter being his perfect self.

"Bon appétit," Drace said, grinning at the Chosen One. Potter returned the smile, waiting for Draco to take his first bite. When he did so, the raven-haired man asked: "Is it any good?"

"Delicious," Draco replied, licking his lips and taking another bite.

"Told you so."

"Don't be so full of yourself, Potter. I can still change my mind."

"Feel free to leave anytime you want, Malfoy. I didn't force you to come."

"No you didn't. I came along because you're the sexiest man on this planet," Draco fired back. He knew Potter wouldn't know a retort for that, and as he had predicted, Potter remained silent. After a while of chewing in silence, Potter seemed to have found his tongue.

"I actually can't believe you're into me, Malfoy," Potter whispered. He was looking at his plate, shoving the rest of the spaghetti around.

"I can't believe you're into me either. You, on the other hand, shouldn't feel that way. You're incredible, Potter. I've always admired you – for being you. For doing what you think is right and fighting for what you love."

"I haven't been fighting for anything lately. I'm not the Potter from Hogwarts anymore, Malfoy. I changed."

"You didn't change, Potter. The only thing you did was grow up. But you're still the same Potter who wants to do the right thing for everyone _except _for himself. That's why you were so unhappy. You always wanted to please Ginny, your friends. That's a good character trait, but it can take you down at one point."

"Are we back in therapy again?" Potter grumbled. Draco rolled his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with talking about your feelings, Potter. If you're going to constantly use my job against me, I'll hex you. That's not a warning, it's a threat." Potter just rolled his eyes.

"I liked you better this morning," Potter whined.

"Because I was naked?" Draco joked. "I can take 'em off if you like."

"Stop it already! Merlin, you're turning me on," Potter cursed with rosy cheeks. Draco had a smug grin plastered on his face. Then he leaned forward, earning an alarmed look from Potter and said: "You've got a little tomato sauce on your lips." He brushed with his fingertip past Potter's lip and saw how the man's eyes darkened with lust.

"You've got to be kidding me," Potter half grumbled, half moaned.

"It's gone now."

"I'll pay you back, Malfoy. Trust me."

"Try me," Draco grinned. He lifted both his eyebrows in a quick movement, a challenging look on his face. This was fun.

_°°-°°-***_End_Of_Flashback_***-°°-°°_

Draco sighed happily, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Watching the other man sleep was something he could do for hours. His chest rose and fell in a rhythmic way, making Draco sleepy again. He crawled against his partner and closed his eyes again. Before he drifted off again, images of last night crossed his mind. Images of Potter and him. Together. In a bed.

_°°-°°-***_ Flashback_***-°°-°°_

"No, you can't sleep here, Malfoy. It's too weird."

"What's weird about it? I won't rape you or anything."

"Very funny. I just don't feel comfortable with it. It's, … I don't know. You're probably up to something funny."

"Oh, you bet. There are a lot of funny things I'd like to do to you, Potter," Draco grinned mischievously. They were sitting in Potter's couch, watching the television. Draco had never had the opportunity to watch one of those things and they'd rented a movie and spent the whole afternoon together. After watching the movie, Draco had prepared Potter a dinner, and now they'd been talking until bedtime. Draco shoved closer to Potter, grabbing him before he started to tickle him. Potter burst out in a loud fit of laughter, trying to push the Ice Prince off.

Draco smiled in return, holding back so the Survivor could catch his breath and then attacked with a new series of tickling.

"Stop it Malfoy. Or I'll be the one to rape you."

"Rape me? What are you going to do to get that done? You _can't _rape _me, _Potter. It's physically impossible."

"What's impossible about it? I would just jump on you, force you against the couch and then-" but Potter trailed off.

"And then?" Draco gestured, urging him to continue.

"I'm not doing that. I just can't."

"I told you so," Draco grinned. They sat up again, eyeing each other awaitingly. Out of the blue, Potter's face saddened, and he tore his gaze away from Draco, looking down at his feet miserable. "What's wrong?" Draco asked, laying an arm around his muscular shoulders.

"I don't know. It's just- I'm not good at this, Malfoy. What if I suck?" Draco quirked an eyebrow, not quite getting where all of this was coming from.

"Suck at what?" He had a hunch that this was about the same thing Potter had talked about during dinner.

"At being a lover. I scared Ginny away too. What if I'm useless? In bed."

"Useless? For Salazar's sake, I'd know what to do with you, Potter. You're gorgeous."

"No, I'm not. I'm stupid. Don't say such things, Malfoy. You used to hate me, so it's just weird that we don't hate each other anymore. How can it be that we're in love? Maybe we're just brainwashed." Potter's uncertainty caught Draco a little off guard, but still, there was no way Draco could be confused about this. He'd never been so sure about anything in his entire life.

"I don't let anyone brainwash me, Potter. I can assure you of that. And if your lover's skills are anything compared to your kisses, I'm sure you'll do just great. You're the best kisser I've had in my entire life."

"Really?" Potter seemed so insecure that Draco just wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. He could only imagine what the man had to go through with Voldemort and his wrecked marriage. He'd never expected the Boy Who Lived to be insecure about anything. He _always _knew what to do, what to say and how to get away with anything. How come he was of vulnerable right now?

Draco sat closer to Potter, welcomed by the delicious smell of coconut and strawberries. He remembered using Potter's soap in the shower that day, lathering himself with the same fragrance that tickled his olfactory organ. He wrapped two arms around the man's torso, hugging him close. "You shouldn't be so insecure, Potter. You're a great person." Potter leaned against him, enjoying the moment with his eyes closed.

"I wish I could believe that," the man whispered in reply.

"I wouldn't say things just to please you, Potter. I'm not like that. They're true." Draco said. "Come here." He pulled Potter in for a kiss. Potter buried his nails in Draco's back, making the blonde moan in pleasure. Draco's hands caressed Potter's chest, sliding his fingers underneath his shirt.

"I really enjoyed today, Potter. Regardless of how bad you think you are, I enjoyed your company. I promise I won't do anything if you let me spend the night here. I don't feel like flooing home and being all alone again."

"Okay. But you're sleeping on _your _side of the bed, is that clear?" Potter seemed to have forgotten his uncertainty and was back in the teasing game.

"I have a side of the bed already?" Draco joked. Potter turned red again.

"You're unbelievable," he replied, shaking his head. Draco just grinned, and nestled against the couch again, his right hand resting on Potter's leg.

"I'm in love with you, Potter." It was the second time he'd said it that day.

"I – er, … Thanks," Potter stammered, looking around his living room. Draco just smiled, watching him intently. He struggled with himself for a while, but then he opened his mouth again. "I love you, Malfoy." The words weren't louder than a whisper, but they sounded so beautiful coming from the Survivor's mouth, that tears welled up in Draco's eyes. He quickly fought them away and leaned in for another kiss.

"Are you coming to bed too?" Potter asked after breaking the kiss. The blonde nodded and followed the shorter man into his bedroom. He'd been there before, twice. The first time, he'd been forced to sit at Potter's side, waiting until he fell asleep. The second time, he'd just been watching him, before the man woke up and nearly cursed him.

Both men undressed with backs facing each other. Potter crawled under the blanked, and soon Draco joined him. He scooted a little closer as Potter made himself more comfortable.

"Sleep tight," Draco whispered. Potter looked at him, his eyelids heavy.

"Sweet dreams," he replied. He snuggled closer, wrapping a strong arm around Draco's waist. The blonde sighed happily, closing his eyes as well. Draco caressed Potter's back, moving his hand up and down in a steady rhythm. Then, he lowered it a little, touching a small stripe of ass. Potter murmured, pushing his hand away.

"If you're going to nag me, I'm pushing you out of bed," he threatened. He opened one green eye lazily, then it fell shut again, dark eyelashes touching the skin under his eye.

"Oh, Potter, you're such a Gryffindor."

"If you wanted to date a Slytherin you should've stayed with Higgs," Potter grumbled moodily.

"Are we jealous, much?" Draco grinned, very pleased with himself. It was the second time Potter had brought up Higgs.

"Get lost, Malfoy. Shut up and sleep already." Nevertheless, the raven-haired man crawled closer to him, burying his head in the crook of Draco's neck. The blonde merely laughed, closing his eyes and falling asleep with the same happy feeling he'd been experiencing all day.

_°°-°°-***_End_Of_Flashback_***-°°-°°_

Draco was sound asleep again, dreaming of Saturdays, raven hair and lightning bolts.

**To be continued…  
**


	13. Chapter 13: The Grand Opening

**So, here it is, the last one. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone by ending it here, but I've got this new idea in my head that needs to get out, and I thought it might be a nice place to end it. So, enjoy, and most importantly, don't forget to review!**

Chapter 13  
The Grand Opening

_Some things are destined to be - it just takes us a couple of tries  
to get there."  
― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine_

It was inevitable. Sooner or later, Harry would have to face Ron Weasley. The fear of losing his best friend forever withheld him from going to the Redhead straight away, but Harry knew it was time to make a decision. He would have to try and reach an agreement.

Harry was waiting for Ron in the Leaky Cauldron. He knew Ron would come here, because they'd spent a lot of time there themselves, after finishing up work. It had been two weeks since Harry started seeing Malfoy and it was over a month that the two best friends were fighting. It couldn't go on like this.

Ron entered the Leaky Cauldron and took a seat at the bar. He hadn't spotted Harry yet, but Harry knew the man would avoid him either way. He walked over to him, trying to form a natural opening sentence in his head.

"Hi, Ron. Congratulations on the promotion," he said upon reaching the chair next to his friend. Ron seemed startled by his presence. Harry sat down on the barstool, not waiting for an invitation.

"I got that promotion three weeks ago," Ron noted dryly. Harry sighed inwardly, already feeling this would be far more difficult than he had expected.

"I just want to apologize, Ron. I'm sorry for pushing you away. It's just, I feel happy being with Malfoy, so it would be so great if you could try and accept it as well." Harry gestured to Tom to give him a drink.

"I should've known that I would be the bad guy in the end again. Hermione has given me the cold shoulder because of _you, _Harry. It's your fault. We never had this much issues." Ron's tone was as cold as the look in his eyes. Tom gave Harry his beer, but quickly went to the other side of the bar again, sensing their conversation was confidential.

"You're fighting over my relationship? I don't think that makes sense. I feel like Hermione just wants you to accept the fact that Malfoy and I are together."

"Malfoy. If I didn't know any better I'd honestly believe he brainwashed you. But even Ginny thinks it's great. She's your bloody wife." Ron shook his head, taking a sip from his Firewhisky. Harry ignored his Butterbeer, momentarily forgetting about it.

"She's dating Dean, so give me one reason why I shouldn't date anyone."

"It's not about the _anyone, _Harry. Why Malfoy? Of all available women – and men – in the world?"

"That's something that concerns _me_, Ron. _You_ don't have to like Malfoy. Merlin, that would be the most extraordinary thing I'd ever see in my life. I'm just asking you to be friends again. Just like before."

"I can't stand being around that piece of shit." Ron spit the words out, as if they had left a poisonous taste in his mouth.

"Please, Ron. Try and be nice. He hasn't been unkind to anyone so far, so it would surprise me if he would be mean to you. Malfoy's trying to be better. Give him a chance." Harry was spinning the bottle of his butterbeer as he spoke, while Ron took another draught.

"That's what Hermione said. She's really angry with me. I'm just trying to be helpful, you know. I didn't want you or Ginny to get hurt, but still you both are and there's nothing I can do to fix that."

"'People learn from their mistakes, Ron. If they wouldn't make any mistakes, they wouldn't learn anything. It's good to question my relationship with Malfoy, but don't take it too far. I just want us to be friends again. Apart from the whole gay thing."

"If I had known you were gay, I wouldn't have let you sleep in my bed," Ron said, pulling a face.

"I didn't know it myself. I just fell in love with Malfoy," Harry smiled, thinking about the blonde and speculating over what he would be doing at this very moment. Rushing home? Preparing dinner? Showering? Harry felt a tug in his abdomen thinking about Malfoy in the shower, until Ron pulled him out of his reverie.

"I don't mind you being gay, Harry. I really don't. I just don't get why you had to marry Ginny first, and then go and spill it all over the papers that you're gay."

"I didn't spill it all over the papers Ron. You know how they are, they're always minding someone else's business. For all I know they could be spying on us right now. I stopped caring. So should you. The fact is, I didn't even know that I was gay before I fell in love with Malfoy." Harry smiled at the thought, liking how the words sounded.

"That's very difficult, Harry. I can't imagine myself being with a guy, ever."

"You're still in love with Hermione. That's why you can't imagine it. If you would be out of love again, and then fell in love with a guy, that would change the situation. You fall in love with a person, Ron. Not with a gender. I'm not saying that I'm keen on having sex with Malfoy just yet, I'm not ready for that. But I will eventually."

"Seriously? I didn't need to know that Harry," Ron gagged and sipped the glass of Firewhisky, making it half-empty.

"So, are we cool now?"

"Sure. As long as you don't marry the idiot."

"That's not in the near future, as far as I know," Harry giggled. "I haven't even divorced Ginny yet." Ron seemed to think about that comment for a while. Harry let him. He knew it was difficult to accept the fact that he was going to divorce Ginny. Then Ron spoke again.

"I know it's for the better. But it still hurts." Harry heaved his Butterbeer and flashed Ron a reassuring smile. The sweet taste added up to the happy feeling that was growing in his stomach.

"I know," Harry said comfortingly. Both men sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company after such a long time. Then Harry added: "But I feel it in my guy that everything's going to be alright in the end."

"You bet it will," Ron smiled, smacking Harry's back. Harry returned the smile, knowing he'd done the right thing.

* * *

Harry walked to his bathroom, yawning as he tried to wipe the tiredness out of his eyes. Making up with Ron had been a relief, and they'd talked for a long time. He undressed in the bathroom, then made his way over to the bedroom. He turned on the lights, scratching his back absently while making his way over to the double bed. Then, he froze in realization.

A _naked_ Draco Malfoy was lying on his side of the bed, a crooked smile on his face. Harry gaped, unable to say anything while Malfoy kept smiling at him.

"Hi Potter. Aren't you coming to bed?"

"How did you get in here?"

"I used the floo. Thought I'd surprise you." Malfoy turned on his side, resting on his elbow to support his head. Harry stared at the exposed body, his gaze wavering over Malfoy's crotch.

"I thought I'd secured it," Harry retorted. Malfoy kept staring at him intently. Harry gulped. "You could say you surprised me," he then gasped. Malfoy's grin widened, patting the covers in front of him.

"Come to bed, love," Malfoy whispered. Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, still not believing his eyes. He leaned forward for a kiss, but Malfoy pulled away.

"Ah-ah, no kisses for you today, Potter." Harry was astonished, several questions popping inside his head. All he could bring out was: "Huh?"

"I want to be your toyboy today. You can't kiss a toy boy, right?" Question's kept rising in Harry's tired brain, the one even more confusing than the other.

"You what?" Harry gawped. His tired brain couldn't process the large amount of information Malfoy was giving him and he made himself comfortable on the bed, trying to suppress another yawn.

"Toy. Boy," Malfoy said slowly. "I'll do whatever you please." Harry looked up at his boyfriend again, annoyance boiling inside. He was just teasing him, and Harry wouldn't have it.

"Then kiss me," Harry said, still not understanding the exact reason why Malfoy didn't want to kiss him. Malfoy scooted closer to Harry, cupping the small bulb underneath his boxers.

"I can't kiss you. The only thing I'm allowed to kiss is your godliness, Potter." Harry chortled, pushing away Malfoy's hand.

"Are you losing it? Stop it already. I want to kiss you." Harry leaned forward, trying to capture the blonde's lips.

"I might have to tie you up if you don't cooperate, Potter." Malfoy kept pushing Harry away from his mouth, while the raven-haired adult became all the more frustrated.

"Tie me up? What is this? A sex game?"

"Finally, he's figured it out," Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes demonstratively. The mischievous grin was still present in his eyes, and Harry suspected nothing good from it.

"I'm not playing a sex game with you, Malfoy. Don't even think about it." He turned his back to his boyfriend, trying to get into a good sleeping position. Malfoy wasn't ready to sleep yet.

"I thought about it a lot. And if you don't want to play along, that's your loss," Malfoy said, pulling down Harry's boxers. Harry gasped for air, trying to push Malfoy's warm hands away. He enjoyed being teased, but playing a sex game wasn't something he'd done before. Ever.

"Come on. Stop it. I'm tired. Can we just go to bed?" he tried the whining approach, but nothing seemed to work.

"You asked for it," Malfoy grunted. At first, Harry thought he had won. The blonde took his wand from the bedside table and swung it once. Instantly, fluffy ropes curled around Harry's wrists and ankles, tying him to the bed.

"MALFOY! Untie me right this instant!" Harry screeched, trying to wriggle himself to freedom. The more he pulled the more stuck he became, so he quickly gave up.

"And now, you're all mine," Malfoy hissed, a deep growl resounding in the back of his throat. His slender fingers caressed Harry's exposed body, starting on his hips. He massaged his legs and stroked his inner thighs. Harry slowly became aroused, closing his eyes at the touch. Malfoy cuddled against his neck, taking his position on top of the Boy Who Lived. Harry's eyes widened, gaping at the naked man in front of him. He'd never been this close to Malfoy before without being able to touch him. If he could just stretch out his arm, he'd be able to touch Malfoy's soft chest-hair. But he couldn't.

"What's wrong, love?" Malfoy said with a smoky voice. He fondled against Harry's torso, burying his nails in the soft skin. Harry moaned, curling up his back and trying to free his hands.

"Untie me please. I want to touch you."

"I can't, Potter. You've been a bad boy, and bad boys need to be punished."

"Seriously, Malfoy? I'm not doing this!" Harry exclaimed, getting frustrated. He gasped for air when Malfoy took a hold of his penis, stroking it gently.

"What did you say, Potter?" Harry murmured, closing his eyes in pleasure, unable to compose an answer. "I didn't hear you, …" Malfoy whispered, speeding up his pace. Harry huffed, trying to free his hands to touch Malfoy, but they remained stuck. He growled inwardly, pleasure blowing his mind as it became more and more difficult to think. Then Malfoy let go.

Malfoy kissed his nipples, making his way down to his abdomen, before breathing on his cock. The warm breath tickled the sensitive skin, and Harry moaned again. "Malfoy. Please. Untie me."

"I'm not ready yet," the blonde replied, and with those words, Malfoy went down on him, taking in his full length. He massaged the base with his tongue, bending forward until the tip touched the back of his throat. The warmth of Malfoy's mouth made Harry's mind go fuzzy and he enjoyed the moment, unable to struggle against his captivity. Malfoy's fingers squeezed his legs, and Harry opened them wider to give the blonde more space. Harry arched his back as Malfoy held down his hips. His tongue kept swirling until Harry threw his head in his neck, all the muscles in his body tightening up. He was still shaking from his orgasm as Malfoy released him from the ropes, and Harry curled himself up against the tall figure.

They remained like that for a while, a cheeky grin plastered across Malfoy's face. "I bet the Weaslette couldn't do that, could she?" he then said. Harry looked up into stormy eyes, a threatening glance in the green orbs.

"No, she couldn't. Why did you tie me up?" Harry caressed the porcelain skin, happy to finally be able to touch the man.

"I don't know. I like to do that sometimes. It's adventurous." Malfoy seemed very satisfied with himself, and Harry leaned against the man's chest fondly.

"Whatever pleases you, Malfoy. I'll pay you back anyway, love," Harry grinned, smiling against Malfoy's nipples. He felt the man chuckle underneath him, then he could feel Malfoy's body resonate when he spoke. "You can _never _pay me back, Potter. It's physically impossible."

"You wish," Harry growled. He kissed the pink lips, looking into Malfoy's eyes adoringly. "You wish."

* * *

Draco woke up, feeling very relaxed. It was very hot in the room, and for a moment he wasn't sure about his whereabouts. He opened one eye lazily. Darkness.

He closed his eyes again, only half aware of the weight pressing down on him. There were a pair of hands rubbing his arms, up his shoulders and down his chest, in a steady rhythm. Draco relaxed against the touch, fighting to not fall asleep and trying to figure out where he was and what happened last night.

Slowly, his thoughts started to make sense and his memories fell back into place. Last night, he and Potter had rented another movie. Ever since Draco had found out about the television and the wonder called _a movie _he loved watching them. They had been fooling around and gone to bed early. Draco smiled at the memory. He loved spending time with Potter. Even if it meant sitting back and doing nothing, it was still worth it. Just being around Potter made his day.

The massaging feeling kept pulling his attention, and he slowly opened his eyes again, darkness still surrounding him. He could make out the contours of Potter's bedroom. The bedside table, the large closet. When he looked up, he saw a large man sitting on top of him. At first Draco was startled, but when he checked that Potter wasn't lying next to him anymore, he felt relief washing over him. It was just Potter.

"Hi, Potter. What a nice way to wake me up," he whispered. Potter just kept massaging his belly, chest and arms, sending a relaxed feeling through Draco's entire body.

"What are you up to? Why aren't you talking?" Draco questioned, trying to get up. Potter's weigh on his hips kept him down, and he found himself unable to get up. Potter lowered his hands and started to massage Draco's legs.

"Payback time." Potter looked down at him, and Draco could see a mischievous grin around his lips. Suddenly it downed on him what Potter was trying to do. He would sex him up. Potter's hands caressed Draco's legs relaxing the muscles until all Draco could think about were those strong hands. He slowly became aroused, and he could feel Potter's erection pushing against his own.

"Potter. Stop teasing me. Please," Draco said, starting to get annoyed. Potter was massaging him everywhere except _there. _Desire was building up in his body as he thought about how Potter would pay him back. Suddenly, Potter grabbed Draco's erection and held it up. He softly caressed Draco's balls with his other hand, a moan escaping from Draco's lips. Potter rubbed his thumb over the swollen member, softly circulating around the tip. After what seemed like an eternity, his hand started to move downwards, steadily going up and down. Draco moaned, bucking up his hips for more.

Unexpectedly, Draco felt something cold around his butt. He tried to find Potter's eyes, but it was too dark in the room. Draco nearly cursed, but Potter's hand was still stroking his erection, and Draco just relaxed against the touch. He was getting pumped up, hands reaching for the raven-haired man when he felt a finger penetrating him. Realization struck him like lightening, and he wanted to crawl from underneath Potter to pay him back big time, but he couldn't move, Potter's left hand on his cock, his right hand a little lower.

"Potter. What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Aren't you enjoying it, Draco?" Potter replied seductively.

"Come here! I'll rip you to pieces, you animal," Draco cursed. Potter hit the spot, which made Draco shut up. He threw his head back while Potter entered a second digit.

"You won't. I'm in charge now," Potter replied. Draco could hear Potter found the situation very amusing, but it became all the more difficult to focus on thoughts like that. Potter was everywhere around him, even inside him. He moaned again, releasing the rest of his frustration until only pleasure was left. His hand touched Potter's leg as he neared his climax. Then he exploded.

When he opened his eyes, green ones stared back at him affectionately. Draco embraced the man, still not understanding how Potter had managed to drive him crazy. Potter lied down next to him, kissing him on the lips softly. Draco smiled, murmuring against Potter's shoulder. "I didn't think you had it in you, Potter. I thought you'd forgotten about that."

"I didn't. I just waited long enough to catch you off guard," Potter replied.

"You surprised me big time," Draco whispered. His eyes fell shut again, drowning in Potter's delicious scent, feeling as if he was floating.

* * *

Finally the day had arrived. The Grand Opening of Harry's coffee shop was about to take place and Harry's stomach was churning in a mixture of excitement and stress. He'd gotten up early this morning to add some final touches to the place. He'd cleaned it again using _Tergeo _and made sure everything was in the right spot.

He'd forbidden Malfoy to come over early, because he wanted the coffee shop to be a surprise for everyone. Harry's bank account had decreased significantly, but the place had come along really well. He would first open for his friends and family, which meant the Weasleys and Malfoy. In the afternoon, the shop would open to the rest of the customers. Harry was very excited.

The magazines had already taken some interviews, and he was hoping for a great turn-up. At ten o'clock, the door swung open, and a tall blonde entered.

"Hi, Potter." There was a big grin plastered on Malfoy's face and Harry could distinguish admiration in his grey gaze.

"Hi. Come in," Harry smiled sheepishly, not really sure what attitude to give himself. He gestured Malfoy to sit down at the bar and gave him a slow kiss on his lips.

"What can I offer you?"

"I'd love a cappuccino, please." Harry smiled, walking over to one of the machines and prepared Malfoy's coffee. "It's looking great Potter. I never knew you had a taste for interior design." Malfoy's gaze went around the place, before resting on Harry again.

"I had an image of what I wanted it to look like. It came along really well. So, you like it?"

"First the cappuccino, Potter. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Whatever you want, Malfoy. The others will arrive shortly." He placed the cappuccino in front of the blonde, hoping he would like it.

"Is there something you wanted to do before the others arrived, perhaps?" Malfoy teased. He took a sip from the green mug, a smile crossing his features. "It's delicious." Harry was glowing with pride, and bent over to kiss the pink lips again.

Ron and Hermione arrived, together with Rose and Hugo, and Harry broke the kiss to greet his friends. "Hi, sit down, sit down. What can I offer you? Everything's on the house."

"For me a latte macchiato, please," Hermione said, putting her purse on the bar and taking her seat. "The kids will drink a hot chocolate." She smiled from Harry to Malfoy, an amused glint in her eyes. "Were you already celebrating without us?" she asked.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. Then he quickly turned to Ron to change the subject."Ron, what do you want?" The kids ran over to the small corner Harry had reserved for kids. There were two tables, one for toddlers, and one for older children.

"An Irish coffee, please," Ron said. He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible, but Harry could tell he still had a hard time seeing him and Malfoy together. They'd been a couple for three months and two weeks now. It had been all over the papers, but Harry had ignored all the negative comments. There had been a lot of hate-letters, the two of them had literally been stalked by owls, but then it faded away. Malfoy hadn't paid attention to anything the magazines wrote or what readers said. The only thing he'd replied was that people needed to mind their own business.

And that's what Harry was trying to focus on. He gave the small family their drinks and was about to sit down again when George and Angelique entered with their kids. Harry served another two hot chocolates and brought them to the Weasley's offspring. "This place looks great, Harry," Angelique said, taking a seat next to Hermione.

"Thanks," Harry replied, a red blush creeping up his face. "It wouldn't have been possible without you, guys."

"Is this the list of drinks?" George asked. He scanned it and quirked an eyebrow. "I never knew so many types of coffee existed. What's a pumpkin Spice Latte?"

"That's steamed milk, espresso, sugar, vanilla extract, pumpkin pie spice, topped with foam and a pinch of pumpkin pie spice.

"Great, I can see you did your homework. I'll have that." George looked around the coffee shop, smiling at what had become of it.

"For me too, please," Angelique added.

"I can't believe you pulled it off, Harry," George said. "I can tell it's going to be great. People will love to come here."

"Yeah, it's very cozy," Ron said. He took a sip from his Irish coffee and flashed a smile at Harry. Harry returned it happily, feeling as if there were bubbles bursting inside his stomach.

"Thanks Ron." Ginny and Dean arrived, and soon after Molly and Arthur made their entrance as well. All the guests had arrived, and Harry conjured the chocolate pie he and Malfoy had made the day before – Harry remembered Malfoy's face when he had smeared chocolate dough all over it – and chuckled while serving it. Everyone got a piece and started talking, while congratulating Harry.

"I'm so thrilled, Harry," Ginny said. "You're looking really great! You're literally beaming with happiness. I'm so glad everything turned out alright. I never thought I'd be possible, but we did it, didn't we? We moved on with our lives." Harry nodded, smiling brightly.

"How's Dean?" Harry asked. Dean was talking to Ron, while Hermione was having an animated conversation with Malfoy. Ginny smiled brightly, her eyes lighting up when she looked at Dean and replied: "He's great. We're getting along really well. Well, we take one step at a time, but it's so nice. I still miss you Harry, but I'm glad we made the decision. You and Malfoy are perfect together."

"Thanks, Gin. Dean's a good guy. I like him." Harry hugged his ex-wife, feeling no regrets at all. He never thought I'd be possible to face Ginny and feel completely normal and at ease, but here they were, both with new partners, having a standard conversation.

Harry then moved around the table, talking animatedly to all of his friends. Harry was just giving Arthur a extended explanation of how the Muggle appliances worked when Malfoy came up to him.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked. Harry quirked an eyebrow, not really sure why Malfoy wanted to talk in private all of a sudden.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Can we talk in the storeroom?" An uneasy feeling settled in Harry's stomach. Something must be wrong. Had Malfoy changed his mind about him? Harry imagined all of his friends turning around at once, laughing their heads off while pointing at him, saying it was all a prank, payback for him leaving Ginny. Did he honestly believe Malfoy could sincerely _love _him? Harry shook his head inwardly, trying to get rid of his confusing thoughts. Malfoy wasn't an actor.

"Sure." Both men walked to the storeroom, and Malfoy closed the door behind him. "What's wrong?" Harry questioned. The storeroom was filled with all types of coffee and other ingredients, spare mugs, cutlery and extra chairs. Harry's eyes rested on the pointy face, trying to discover a glimpse of hatred. However, Malfoy's facial expression was happy. Joyful.

"I hate to share you, Potter. I can't stand it any longer. I want you right now," he growled. Harry's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline, as he realized Malfoy was being serious.

"Malfoy, honestly. I saw you just yesterday, we spent the whole day together."

"I need my daily dose of you," Malfoy's grey eyes were clouded with lust, cornering Harry against the wall.

"What do you mean? I'm not having sex with you when my friends are next door, Malfoy. Forget it. Think about things that disgust you, it'll go away automatically. Dolores Umbrigde? Mandrakes in puberty? Bubotuber Pus?"

"Not helping, Potter. Kiss me." Harry felt his stomach churning in a pleasant way. He leaned forward, capturing the soft lips of his lover. Instantly, the rest of the world faded and only Malfoy and Harry mattered. Malfoy tongue slipped past his lips, deepening the kiss as their tongues intertwined. Harry tugged on Malfoy's shirt, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around the tall shoulders, burying his nails in Malfoy's back. Malfoy's hands snuck under Harry's shirt pulling the fabric over Harry's head. Harry paused, breathing heavily.

"No, you can't. We need to go back," Harry breathed. He pressed his body against Malfoy's wanting to be as close as possible.

"They'll be just fine without us," Malfoy replied. He unzipped Harry's pants. It dropped onto the ground, and Harry looked up. He met with silver, a naughty grin splitting the pointy face in two.

"Cast a silencing charm over the room," Harry whispered. Malfoy did as he was told. Harry squeezed the man's buttocks as he got out his wand to say the enchantments. Malfoy grinned, and willingly let Harry take off his clothes before putting his wand back and focusing on the Survivor again.

Their lips locked. Harry lost himself in another kiss, and the longer he was there, the more difficult it became to think about the coffee shop. Malfoy was everywhere, on his skin, in his head, in his mouth. Harry couldn't think clearly anymore. Malfoy stripped down Harry's boxers, revealing black curls. Harry's fingers caressed Malfoy's chest gliding down to his waistband teasingly.

He slowly pulled down Malfoy's underwear, then held him close again. He breathed in his scent, the familiar aroma calming him down. Malfoy's hands caressed his legs, and Harry willingly opened them to let Malfoy touch his balls. His slender fingers fitted around his penis perfectly, and Harry moaned in reply as Malfoy started massaging his masculinity. Harry pulled the blond closer and gently caressed the tip of Malfoy's erection. The man shivered, pulling Harry in for a kiss again. Harry kept pleasuring him with soft but firm strokes. Malfoy buried his head in Harry's neck, softly kissing the sensitive skin. Harry willingly gave the man more room to kiss, when a pair of teeth bit down on him.

Harry moaned again, feeling how the pain mixed with pleasure. He bent down on his knees, kissing Malfoy's legs before focusing on his crotch. The licked it a few times, teasing the blonde. Harry looked up at Malfoy, blonde eyelashes touching the skin underneath his eyes, grey orbs closed. Harry then went down on his lover again, earning a deep moan. Malfoy quavered under Harry's touch and ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry kissed his way up to Malfoy's collarbones, kissing them both before biting his neck.

Malfoy pushed him against the wall, kissing him eagerly. Passion and desire took over Harry's mind. They broke their kiss again, and Malfoy reached out for his wand. Harry waited patiently, nervousness and anxiety starting to build up inside of him.

"It's okay," Malfoy whispered. A cold liquid spread around his butt, making Harry shift uncomfortably. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Sure," Harry muttered, reaching out at the man again. Malfoy held him close, whispering soothing words in his ear before entering a digit. Harry didn't know what to feel. Delight mingled with pain, tension and fright trying to take the better part of him. Malfoy's left hand massaged his erection again, adding up to the mixed feeling. Harry relaxed against Malfoy, taking a few soothing breaths. Malfoy's lips caught his own, a wave of passion rushing through his body as their tongues touched again.

Harry tensed when Malfoy moved his finger, but then relaxed against the touch, trying to be as relaxed as possible. The pain started to fade away as arousal kept grewing in Harry's abdomen. Then out of the blue, Malfoy hit the spot, a loud moan escaping from Harry's mouth. Harry opened his eyes, looking into grey ones, an amused smile on his lover's face.

"Is that better?" Malfoy whispered, touching the spot again. Harry closed his eyes in pleasure, nodding as Malfoy kept repeating his movement. He entered a second digit, and even though it hurt at first, the desire for more ruled his body. Harry breathed heavily, his head resting against the wall, his legs spread as wide as he could. Malfoy's hands were all over him, making Harry's head go fuzzy.

Then, Malfoy uplifted him, pushing Harry against the wall with his hips. Harry folded his legs around Malfoy's waist, trying to position himself as comfortable as possible. "Merlin Malfoy. I love you so much," Harry whispered against Malfoy's ear.

"I love you too, Potter," Malfoy's voice sounded fragile and confident at the same time. Harry hugged the man close. Malfoy penetrated him.

"Oh, that hurts," Harry exclaimed breathlessly, trying to adapt to the sudden change. The fact that Malfoy was inside him right now brought about an overwhelming feeling, compensating the pinching pain. Their bodies were connected, and Harry could feel tears jump into his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked, instantly concerned. He wanted to retreat, but Harry stopped him.

"It's alright. I've never been this intimate with someone before. I'm fine. It's just so overwhelming." Malfoy smiled, kissing Harry's lips again. He moved a bit, half pushing forward. Harry pulled a face, still trying to adjust to Malfoy's erection.

"I've never done this before either, Potter," Malfoy confessed. Harry looked up, disbelief written all over his face.

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"No, silly. I've never been on top of anyone," Malfoy explained. Slowly, Harry realized what he was trying to say, not really that accustomed to gay sex.

"Oh," he breathed. "You'll be fine, don't worry." At this, Malfoy laughed out loud, the small burst of laughter filling the storeroom. It made Harry smile in return. Again, Malfoy trusted a bit forward. Harry wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to be completely relaxed. With the next thrust, Malfoy hit the pleasurable spot again, and Harry chuckled. Malfoy noticed and trusted again, slowly picking up the pace.

Harry held on to Malfoy, feeling the hard muscles under his arms. The only thing on Harry's mind was blonde hair, grey eyes and the porcelain body making love to him. He neared his orgasm, feeling how Malfoy reached the edge. Malfoy climaxed, his entire body tensing up, which made Harry release as well. They remained like that for a while, both breathing heavily. Harry still had difficulty to entail what had just happened. His forehead rested against Malfoy's and he opened his eyes. Molten silver stared back at him, eyes clouded with the emotion overpowering Harry's entire being.

Love.

LINEBREAK

"What's taking them so long?" Ron asked, looking at the storeroom in annoyance.

"Let them be. They probably want some alone time," Hermione responded. She shared a smile with Angelique and both women started giggling. Ron pulled an eyebrow, but then it downed on him what they were trying to say and confusion made room for horror.

"Bloody hell, are they-?"

"Ronald. There are children here," Hermione reprimanded. Ginny started to giggle, while Ron crossed his arms over his chest, sulking. After what seemed like an eternity, the couple emerged from the storeroom again, both looking flustered. Hermione had a knowing look on her face, and it looked as if Ron was going to be sick any time.

"There you two are," Molly said, handing them over a bottle of champagne. "Let's give the happy couple a toast."

"And heave our drinks for the new coffee shop," George added. Harry smiled, sitting down next to Malfoy at the table. Champagne was served and everybody started to talk again. Harry looked around happily. Even Ron seemed to be enjoying himself. Harry bent over to Malfoy, kissing him on the lips before whispering in his ear.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me." Malfoy smiled in reply, leaning over to his ear as well.

"You weren't so bad yourself." Harry's eyes widened in shock, immediately making the link to the storeroom.

"Asshole."Harry tried to sound angry and upset, but failed miserably. Malfoy's eyes were filled with mirth.

"You like it, don't you?" The suggestive comments made Harry blush, and he averted his gaze from Malfoy's intense grey stare.

"Stop it already," he muttered, a playful grin still plastered on his face. They shared another kiss, then threw themselves back into the conversation at the table. Harry observed the blonde adoringly, realizing he would never get bored with this guy.

By opening the coffee shop, Harry had started a whole new chapter in his life. He didn't know where life was going to bring him, but frankly, he didn't care. All that mattered were the people surrounding him at this moment.

**The End**

**Like I said: everyone should review! I'm dying to know what you think. I want to thank all of the people who followed, favorited and reviewed for their support! I wouldn't have been able to write it without your encouraging words ^_^**

**A special thanks goes to chochowilliams and Eltanin Rose for the extensive reviews! I enjoyed reading them all!**

**But most of all, I want to thank my inspiration for this all: Tessa! I love you so much!**


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